Excerpt from: “Man, Woman, and Hunger” by Daina Chaviano
“I can’t remember how I came to his bed. I just remember his hands with that perennial smell of comfortable and safe home; his tongue, going from my neck to the utmost further reaches; of the loving one eyed-beast…..soft flesh to be made captive between the lips, the upper and lower ones – to be caressed with the teeth in dangerous simulation of decapitation, to be followed by a kiss, half slurp, half bite. Manna of the hungry people. Milk that I want you milk: Refresher for my vagina in ruins. How anxious of orgasms is my mutilated soul...
I quake like a whore in lent. I open my legs. I get wet. Tie me to the posts, don’t let me escape. My body becomes a piranha, becomes a vampire, becomes feral, devours everything and wants everything. The religious ecstasy is brother of the carnal ecstasy, and sometimes those are confused.
Lick my apple, bury yourself in my Eden. Inter your cross in my hill, let me suck your paradise….The angels have sex. How not to love God?”
“El Hombre, la hembra y el hambre” by Chaviano Daine Barcelona, editorial Planeta S.A 1998
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Didn't get the book I was looking for, yet I did get five novels by Chaviano.
I plan to meet her in Miami where she resides, at the annual book fare next year. I also hope one day to meet the author Paolo Coelho.
My soul has established a one-sided dialogue through their written words.
I would also like to meet Ocampo, my favorite painter, since I want to post the question in a subtle way, if he gets his visions via astral projection. He’s just so out there.
Of course, one may ponder if hallucinatory drugs have anything to do with it.
I recall when I was about 18 yrs old, I experimented with marijuana a few times. This caused some form of paranoia.
“I can’t remember how I came to his bed. I just remember his hands with that perennial smell of comfortable and safe home; his tongue, going from my neck to the utmost further reaches; of the loving one eyed-beast…..soft flesh to be made captive between the lips, the upper and lower ones – to be caressed with the teeth in dangerous simulation of decapitation, to be followed by a kiss, half slurp, half bite. Manna of the hungry people. Milk that I want you milk: Refresher for my vagina in ruins. How anxious of orgasms is my mutilated soul...
I quake like a whore in lent. I open my legs. I get wet. Tie me to the posts, don’t let me escape. My body becomes a piranha, becomes a vampire, becomes feral, devours everything and wants everything. The religious ecstasy is brother of the carnal ecstasy, and sometimes those are confused.
Lick my apple, bury yourself in my Eden. Inter your cross in my hill, let me suck your paradise….The angels have sex. How not to love God?”
“El Hombre, la hembra y el hambre” by Chaviano Daine Barcelona, editorial Planeta S.A 1998
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Didn't get the book I was looking for, yet I did get five novels by Chaviano.
I plan to meet her in Miami where she resides, at the annual book fare next year. I also hope one day to meet the author Paolo Coelho.
My soul has established a one-sided dialogue through their written words.
I would also like to meet Ocampo, my favorite painter, since I want to post the question in a subtle way, if he gets his visions via astral projection. He’s just so out there.
Of course, one may ponder if hallucinatory drugs have anything to do with it.
I recall when I was about 18 yrs old, I experimented with marijuana a few times. This caused some form of paranoia.
I was with my brothers and I asked them in serious earnest, what if…what if God had simply not decided to create earth, man and woman on a whim? What then?
The opposite of something, being….absolutely NOTHING.
.
Picture " Forever" by Octavio Ocampo
