Monday 21 November 2011

Poem by the Danish poet F.P. Jac (1955-2008)

i’ve been on the booze

i’ve been on the booze ever since i could make head or tail of myself,
a late-flowerer i refused war threats abstained from being for or against
christ and began to take my own pictures straight from the skin, dis–
appeared at every crucial moment so as to find peace at some outer place,
find value perhaps next to a girl’s temple that clearly reflected orgasm.
i had to get away from noise with a finger in my mouth and flowers in my hair,
find a corner and down a massive finger of gin while the leaves came out on all
the trees i mean i’m best on the whisky and porter boundary,
and no picture will be able to surprise me in my window haunt at night,
nix i’m a drunk but i carry around with me one of the biggest and the
tenderest of earthly hearts i’ve innumerable black cats on that, just ask the
girls on the street they know what state i’m in they know how i like to have
my neck caressed they know how the tongue’s to be laid out along the nose,
they will be able to attest to my decline be able to light up the beauty,
they will be able to admit that i am the last thing from the aesthetic universe,
i’ve been on fear longer than the tulip would probably put up with,
i have loved more glitter pictures than most people could possibly understand
in sorrow and confusion i have seen the rooms fall down like artificial ice,
i was on the booze long before the poem and love ever became
a possibility and i have seen a mother who changed her nature while she cried,
i have seen them dying emptying themselves while they called out in desperation for a
father who did not exist i have seen the pulse completely open one early morning
and i don’t want to get out of it don’t want to be subdued i bloody want to see the
girls when they entrust me their genital opening and ask me to clip,
let me be a damned sight more precise i want to radiate the seamy side i want to make
everyone beautiful and they are all to come and see the flower shoot from the very
lump of shit there’s no difference between soil and fertiliser there is life,
no one’s to deny me my boundlessness i belong to a cultural pause
i belong to an empty space inside the world i belong of a world,

The poem really does end with a comma! For a review, go to here.

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