3. TAG, OR THE CONTAGIOUS ONE
not an earthly life, just step by step
but what else to say,
oil, oil, oil, oil, gas, oil,
when you repeat it many times it still doesn’t make sense but at least starts to rhyme a bit and as we know, rhymes knock on the walls
of understanding sometimes?
maybe it is when everything on earth befriends the ice, ice would be inaccessible.
burned in the fire of lively life streams, veins of life near the North Pole, Norilsk, in a bitcoin server farm.
chaos of longing goes slightly easier
on the skin routine than chaos of belonging.
what would be the way to synthesise
the questions that come up when I think of you.
maybe in pre-teenage years
to protect my family of girls,
the bathroom is a place to hide,
we all hide.
when my mom took it there to hide,
I always tried to find the roots
of aggression and
this inexpressible doubt.
three girls are crying together with the woman
who is taking a bathtub.
we rub her shoulders,
we wash away her freckled fair skin
hot water hides tears in the redness of the skin.
she always was the scapegoat.
I was the bendable.
It is a rather scratchy passage to ->
game has started! Now!
who will be the one sent out?
who will get the measured portions of slaps and humiliation?
the order is always set, first mom,
then the eldest.
I blame the fact that the house we habitate
is built right in the middle of the pit.
all is absorbed into moist soil,
and it kind of roots there, boils, suffocates, repeats in circles.
the game starts. and it goes like dominos: all fall, one by one, you start again.
before and after.
steel in your hair cuts everything in half.
just don’t shut up.
they sing too loud.
in the whirlpool of dark red rose petals.
black gold drips from the fingers of Ala; she does nail design that renders the witch’s nails from sleeping beauty.
I play a record on my grandmother’s old gramophone. I swing its rusty handle with all the force I have to start it off: the pitch goes doubtfully from male to female.
note: to become invisible, find a snake in the spring and cut off its head.
put three peas with black spots into it. and bury it at noon.
as the damp earth gives fruit, will it fruit?
but if it fruits three colours
will be born:
the colours: yellow, red, and white.
just as the snake considered typically the wisest
(who said it?)
of all living creatures and crits of the world,
you’ll be the wisest to choose: red, white or yellow.
the red one: thoughts of others will be your thoughts,
the yellow one, you will be rich, but what is to be rich?
the white one, you’ll become invisible.
eat up and let the tongue touch the idea of having being able to have a choice.
at 3 am, thanks, babe, did it go through?
full moon shone bright like a diamond, beach – long walks, scooter – ride, 120 km of mountains,
moss, rocks, trees, jumps, the round stones along the river, waterfall, swam – in a mountain lagoon, drunk – pastis, watched – the sun hitting our face, stepped – on the maquis, rocks, water and air, pétanque, heart of the island, heart of a revolution, and so we dropped the sweat in a mountain river.
I imagine that the river flows in both directions simultaneously. wouldn’t it be funny?
but there they opt for oil,
not like that,
I wanted you to write not to expose family stories.
breweries and bakeries,
is it a quote?
can they hear us, they can’t hear us.
they listen all along.
dragons land on the rooftops