I Was a Teenage Sketchbook

The sensual, the surreal, the beauty we overlook on a daily basis, the dark urges, the exotic escapes; words and images by American artist, John Goss.

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John Goss was born in Santa Cindy and was raised and lives in Asia/Pacific. Learn more about John at Siamorama

Saturday, June 24, 2006

Baja, Death on Holiday

Dust jugs crack the spine
Of broken boulevard.
This hellfire kiln --
It's the trap I've come to tourist.

Souvineers of suffering
Heatedly hawked --
A braceletof failed charms, apocryphal gems

Jangled in a glittery hiss.
Not a slither of passion.
Original sin's too rare to bargain

Away in the blaze they endure.
They string those snakey trinkets
In the cool belly of the Mission,

In coffin-shaped confessionals
Where sins are traded daily
For a snack of flesh and blood.

I sift through all the mummy dust
Unearthing my salvation -- candy skulls,
Thirteen to the dollar,

Each bleached horror blessed
With a frosty number, a monogram,
A confectionary crucifix.

I rattle a bagful.

On the train home, a dozen left.
The sugary stain of a cross on my lips.


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