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December 10, 2007

Breaking

for Anne Waldman



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July 30, 2007

The Parade

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July 27, 2007

Gurus R Us

At retail counters everywhere
medical and cosmetic
intellectual and prophetic
people want to know
“What is wrong with me?”

In answer come the
counterfeit coinages of a dying empire
whose very merchants would rather receive
money from somewhere else
because tin has taken the place of silver
and the platitudes give no lift
to the wings of inner destiny
that wants only to overlap
the outer world.

Self-help in a vibrating universe
intoned from the Nothing
like a sacred Vedic mantra?

Listening to the collisions,
dust and waves crashing over
a foreign fruit, bitter and complete,
or a punch
catching you in the teeth,

inundated with private maladies
belonging to you and everyone,
an influenza of the soul,
convalescence acted out
on a curtainless stage with props and poison,
the fountains of human life, the impossible
spiderweb of voices in the ears of the mind:
how a lover should feel and move
how a friend should listen and talk,
the painted hierarchies
of gentrified cavemen
strung like beads on an abacus
of  social rewards,
a frightening calculus,
a mathematics of violence
using only imaginary numbers,

could we find a place there
among the decadent equations,
a settling of weight without gravity,
exiting the cave as ones in full recollection,
no longer troglodyte criminals
but thieves of fire,
dancers to crystalline music,
an internal conductor conducting
smithereens of heavenly jazz
floating, bulging, proud,
like sea spray or soap bubbles
their prismatic surfaces
holding nothing but air
fragrant as it is with the cries of dying
whales?

The players pick the tune up,
its soft middle draping like a cat
over their hands playing,
feet marching, improvising an eternal
return

knowing this too
is a lie.

Young Girls in Bangladesh

I.

I am 15.
6 months ago
a man asked me to marry him.
I said no.

One week later
he came into my bedroom
and poured battery acid
on my face
on my neck.

I awoke to intense burning
thinking I would die
for a moment hoping
I would die.

I have had 8 operations:
face
eyes
neck
I will have 4 more.
The pain does not end.
I will never look
like myself.

Of course people stare
of course
I want to cry.
It hurts to cry.
My eyes remain
like a desert.


II.

I am 15 years old.
4 years ago
my father gave me to a man
with a dowry of a watch, a goat, and a bicycle.
My father had none of these things.
My husband felt cheated.

Surely my husband hated me,
he beat me every day.
People told me
to stay
to stay because
leaving
would be worse.

But one day the rain came.
I felt like the sky laughing
so hard I cried
the flood tore down our house
a falling timber killed my husband.

I got a loan
and began growing crops.
After 2 years
I was wealthy as any man.

I took out more loans
and planted a large crop.
But the rains came.
I felt like the sky mourning,
so deeply I could have laughed crazy,
the flood
destroyed everything.


III.

My 15th birthday just passed.
We ate a very big meal.
A year ago my sisters and I
ate almost nothing.
We fasted to save money.

My mother carries stones
as heavy as I am.
She has done this
all my life.

A year ago
when we began fasting
the 5 of us
moved into one room in our house
and we took two lodgers.

We used all our food money
our rent money
our work money
to buy the village phone.

Having the village phone
is better than my factory job.
I lost that job
because something happened
in New York.
Someone told me
a plane crashed there.
Someone else said a building fell down.
No one really knows.
Maybe they had a flood.