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LARISSA SHMAILO |
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FOREVER AND ALL
I. Je suis une femme de lettres et je gagne ma vie. ─Colette
All ways a feather: bed your bugs as they bud Welling roses these sweltering days Rose roaches blooming by books, near pillows Blooming by Bloomsday, busting out by June Busting on Broadway, busting the busts… Hey, this is…my bra! (Like swallowing feathers, you know, dirty feathers.) And this is December and over there, Christmas We call April Easter cause she makes them march.
Welling roses in Wellington Rolls Rose roaches blooming by books, near pillows Rolls with butter, rolls with jam Roll her over, let’s go hot damn! Sweltering days as rose roaches bloom Swilling slaves in rose roaches’ room
Bloom, concrete blossoms! Bloom, Broadway bottoms! Bloom! Picks his nose Bloom! As he grows. . . .
Bed your bugs as they bud, as they breed─what a breed! Ill-bred, no bread Dirty cunt’s puking Just giving me head. . . .
All ways are fettered Fellated and fucked For ever and all But mostly for us
II. Foret sans oiseaux
All ways are feathered. For rest a bed, For the rest, a bed . . . . Hey, this is. . . .I know; I’ve had them for years. I’ve had it. Have you? Been had? Have you a forest? Have you a bed? Have you a haven? (Forests of feathers: naked birds shrieking Bony birds swooping Burning birds screaming Descending like hell)
Blooming rose roaches all buds destroyed Bony birds bleeding, beating, breaking, bled. . . For rest, a bed, for rest. . . Fine-feathered slaughter by books, near pillows Rose roaches breed, Bleed swiftly and die.
III. On commence par ệtre dupe, on finit par ệtre fripon. ─George Sand
Always the feathers: hi, I’m Molly Bloom; Blow by my bathroom . . . . By the window a frozen bird, frozen for weeks, A weak bird, a dead duck, a gone goose, A pigeon petered out. . . .
But I’m Molly Bloom, you’ve had me, you know: Birds are just chirping snakes. But I’m Molly Bloom, I’m a mammal, I have mammaries, see: This is a bust! I don’t touch dead birds.
This is December, and over there’s Christmas And Easter will rise to any occasion For ever and all For Peter and Paul. . . . But I’m Molly Bloom, I’m a pagan, you fuck! Amen (A man? Where?)
A feather bed for me, a haven for rest, Pillows for the head, and books for the rest I need the rest: this is short, where’s the rest?
All ways are fetid Fellated and fucked No bird’s no damn good Until it’s been plucked. A man? Amen. This is Easter: Rest that piece.
SCARCITY (ASSUME THE POSITION)
Listen: If you wait but don’t want If you want but don’t take If you take but don’t use If you use but don’t care If you care but not much The petty demon comes.
The petty demon says: Not all of you are wanted Not everyone is needed A few may be accepted
There’s scarcity, you see There are no loaves and fishes─ Not for the likes of you─ A few baguettes for baby Some caviar for me There’s just enough to shit and sleep But not enough for thee.
The petty demon shrieks: Time is money Sell short Eat to win Assume the position.
In the world In the angry material world There are men who are not men. Men Whose imaginations never rise Above the box and plane Whose imaginations squat Upon the positions of power.
If the petty demon bothers you Here’s what you say Tell him: I don’t know about Your lawyer’s fees Your MDs Your CEOs Your deep freeze
I do know that The blind man is perfect That there’s more to life than irony And squealing like a stuck pig That the truth is hard but you can stand on it That time isn’t money or a threat but a gift.
As you take your position In the world Do not love Men who are not men Whose imaginations never rise Walk tall; walk with God
Assume nothing;
take a position. A SOP FOR CERBERUS
He needed me. Alone at the gates of Hell, He looked at me, his six rheumy eyes Fixing me imploringly. So I fed him meat And with a leap, he jumped onto my back: The animal musk and the weight of him, The great paws, the salivating jaw, The hot muzzle and demon-bloody wounds, Startling. But I found I could carry him, And brought him home to keep: The dead do not play; the dead do not sleep.
Larissa Shmailo has read with the Black Panthers, for the Writer's Harvest against Hunger, at the Knitting Factory, and countless other national venues. She has received "Critic's Pick" notices and critical acclaim for her readings and radio performances from the New York Times, the Village Voice, and Time Out magazine. Larissa has been published in scores of books, journals and web sites ranging from Newsweek, Rattapallax, poetz.com, the American Translator's Slavfile, and Street News. She is the translator of Russian Futurist opera Victory over the Sun with art by Kasimir Malevich; the opera was performed at Brooklyn Academy of Music's Next Wave Festival, the Los Angeles County Museum, the Smithsonian, and internationally. Her poetry CD, The No-Net World, is available at www.cdbaby.com/cd/shmailo, at www.tower.com, at St. Marks NYC, City Lights SF, and other bookstores. With Chocolate Waters, she teaches the class PUBLISH & PERFORM, or PERISH!
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Copyright © 2006 by Larissa Shmailo
Material may not be reprinted without prior written permission.