wyrdwind

Covert Operations

Espionage

is a web of leverage.

Among professionals, it’s many years

before you encounter that white whale,

if at all. Love.

A person you can’t turn.

No other force on Earth

defies law, religion, custom, tradition,

self preservation, common sense, addiction.

If you want to stop them,

you have to kill them.

No hesitation.

It’s much rarer than you suppose.

Our cities but clots of complacent rhythm,

piling up. Plaque in a false artery

the CIA protects.

Don’t tell my uncle I said that.

So much clockwork

instead of a pulse, they thought

we wouldn’t notice.

Dad said if I were a font,

I’d be Wingdings, once.

But he didn’t know,

none of them did,

to this day don’t.

Lost in Translation

Don’t know the half of it,

the third, the fourth. Less

than five fingers the number

of times someone heard my heart,

how to explain it? Their game

is productivity and medication.

Boxes, debt, and payment.

Sooner scatter my brain

on the pavement

than be any less

than this.

Ocean of sunlight overflowing,

all things, a song inside so beautiful I weep,

the hands of every ancestor on me,

every fur, scale, feather,

thorn, petal, and leaf,

a world of colors and textures to greet,

why else be given body? I can make

you see.

Check Engine

I got by,

a given value of fine,

when the man you truly love

only exists in your mind, you negotiate.

Big mistake. Been callin’ it

the Big Bored of 2024.

You might use a different term.

Some shit I never felt before,

triggered in the car.

I hit my limit.

The world didn’t exist.

An unreality. Absolutely nothing

was okay. I was a trapped animal

willing to gnaw my own limb off

to escape. To feel again.

Gods blessed me grandma’s poker face.

Time to lose the man. Eject

baggage. Sit in my garden

with my cats. Music. My tricks

are numerous. Sails. A hammock.

A safety net.

The broken girl I put to sleep

woke up.

Grandpa said

keep an even keel.

Oscar Worthy

“Are you bored of me?”

Ouch. That’s vulnerability.

There’s no kind way to say

baby I’m bored of everybody,

all the time. It’s not personal.

You’re dial-up

and I’m fiber optic hun,

you’re humping couch cushions

and I’m top tier tantric, fuck.

I go deep for distance,

and you can’t achieve penetration

with a thick nine inches.

Don’t listen to other men,

it’s not about size.

It’s about rhythm. Connection.

You’re talkin’ Formula One and guns

and I’ve analyzed this establishment

and rebuilt it three times.

Deconstructed our lunch, more flavor,

some crunch. Better sauce. Spice. Oh look,

a dog. Askin’ me

which ammo you should buy,

what the Plan is, the Mexico

shopping list. Logistics

can hold my interest.

Yes dear, gun go bang,

car go fast.

Ladies it’s not worth it

just for some half-assed

rubs and licks.

Anyways, I lied.

Tomoe Gozen

Always said

unfaithfulness is like laming

your own warhorse.

They who share your heart

in a world wasn’t made for us.

Men have proven unworthy

of partnership.

And a woman

is every day at war

the moment she gains consciousness,

pays any amount of attention.

The scope of what’s been done.

Movies deceive, desensitize,

take for granted,

but it’s important to remember

she was real.

Her feats impressive.

Women were chattel,

worse than expendable,

baby pushing rape receptacles,

and from a murky bed

of pond scum, useless toil, and blood,

a lotus blossom.

She went from concubine

to top commander,

second only to the general himself.

Wielded not a naginata,

but a longsword from mount,

and an armor piercing longbow—

draw weight between 80 and 140 pounds.

Not an onna bugeisha.

A samurai.

Led 1000 cavalry to victory,

took seven trophies in a single day—

from mount, I say. Let that sink in.

Surgical precision on horseback in battle.

Extremely difficult is an understatement,

sheer amount of shit has to go right.

Seven times.

Commanded 300 against 6000,

one of five survivors, for the win.

What went through Lord Yoshinaka’s head.

Something beyond merely

lover, warrior, wife.

Oh these two were more than friends.

Their forces dwindled to five in the end.

In a move unprecedented,

against all expectation,

he ordered her to quit the field.

Would cover her escape.

She took one last trophy on the way.

Men spun stories as to why,

diminished the legacy, her feats,

any reason, any ending

but the most obvious point.

He was just a boy

supposedly divine,

and once in many lifetimes

you cross a creature outside.

Proof of something

beyond your present confines.

When the gods ask you to ride.

To what purpose?

Choose between drudgery,

monotony, field or factory,

privilege in society,

men are fine with domestic slavery.

Obedience. Or is she

a seven severed heads,

20 to 1 odds,

fight 1000 men, a demon,

or a God kinda bitch.

My bet is

she was pregnant.