The Tattooed Poets Project: Nescher Pyscher

Today's tattooed poet is named Nescher Pyscher and hails from Cambridge, Ohio.

Nescher offered  up his right wrist for us here at http://tattoosmonday.blogspot.com/:

Photo courtesy of Nescher Pyscher

Nescher explains:

"The tattoo was done in two parts. The first part was my wife's name in Chinese, surrounded by an infinity symbol. It was my wedding present for her. I designed the tattoo myself, and I was inspired to do so by a ink-stamper-thing-y my wife's father brought home for her from China. The second part, my son's name, was my wife's Christmas present to me when our son was born. I do not remember the name of the tattoo studios or the artists, but both tats were procured in the Akron, Ohio area."

As a matter of clarification, I asked Nescher about the kanji representing his wife's name. He told me that the "three symbols mean--so I've been told--'Mother,' 'Earth' and 'Love.' " He added that she is a geologist, by occupation.

Photo courtesy of Nescher Pyscher

As for his son's name, Geir, he clarified that his name means Spear, which is Icelandic or Norwegian, in origin. Nescher added that "names with value and freighted with meaning are important in my family. He is the strong weapon in my right hand, the spear we cast into the future."

As for a poem, Nescher, offered up this piece:

dustbitten

i plant the seed of myself within myself--

mutated, cloned, half-life-whole that

gropes toward darkening life--

and watch the poisoned weed of me grow.

i am the frozen feathers of a bird in flight,

locked to dead tree, dying in estrous,

decayed in birth, and forgotten before the wind

could sweep through feathers.

i am eye,

i am face,

i am ear

i am the frozen corpse at the bottom of the well

leaking into life; oozing into being;

draining into dream and desire

i am fist

i am nail

i am bent, broken finger

i water the tumors of me with the salt of my tears

the iron tang of my blood,

the sweet toxin of my urine.

i am teeth

i am tongue

i am busily working lips

i eat my flesh, taken straight from crippled vine

and wince at the taste of my self-inflicted pain,

juices running unchecked down my pocked and hairless

chin

i am blister

i am burn

i am wounded, weeping sore

my madness drives me, sings inside me

and keeps me warm

the feel of meeting teeth on my broken skin feels

like warm rain in the evening;  

sun setting on life forever

i am stone

i am flesh

i am dust

 ~ ~ ~

Nescher Pyscher--his real name. Honest!--is a happily married, thirty-five year old author and poet living, writing and staying at home with his son in the Cambridge, Ohio area. His writing can be found at Weebly.com, Helium.com, Pablo Lennis, and his book of short stories, Itchy Whispers, is now available from Trafford or Amazon.com. His adventures in ineptitude with his son, The Pants, can be read twice weekly at The Daily Jeffersonian.  

Thanks to Nescher for sharing his tattoos and his poetry with us here on http://tattoosmonday.blogspot.com/!

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