3 Poems
Filip Marinovich

May 23, 2013


GENERATOR

you think you can take my generator
I am the generator
you can’t take
you are dragging your net for fish
but I am the ocean
we are the ocean
we are the maritime percent
we are flooding you
this Zuccotti pool
is up to your necks
you think taking a generator
and a tent away
will make a dent
in our operations
you are in a serious surgery
you don’t even know
the implications of
we have discovered you don’t have a heart
but a tear gas cannister
where a heart used to be
and Scott Olsen will rise from
his hospital bed and join us again
and I am Scott Olsen and
you are skull olsen and I am the
crack in Scott Olsen’s skull
and I speak history
now

you are dead generators
taking yourselves away
returning yourselves
to the shop you came from
when you gave your life away
for shopping
when you gave your heart away
for a white bouquet of swinging
plastic cuffs at your hip

you can cuff us and you can
cut off the circulation in our wrists
but you cannot stop
this generator heart we all beat with
it runs on blood
which is a biodiesel fuel
completely green
like the moving forest
you soon will be buried in
Dunsinane Insane
USPD
we will convert you to humans again yet
it will not take bloodshed to do it
but magic
of word and breath and footsteps
you will never sleep again

even when you’re dead
we will wake you up
with the scratching of
our pens

we cut through
the bars of
the pigpen
holding pen
with the
penknife
Life
we live

when right now
no
right now
no
right now
the end

Today the generators were taken away
or so they thought
the generators are our hearts

*

TIME GUYS

you are Bach, Grampa Bach,
why don’t you live in my harpsichord guts–

he is cremated
I reinvent the crematorium
in my gut, will it
make me think with
speed.
If a grandfather clock falls
in the middle of
Sherwood Forest killing Robin Hood
and Little John instantly and
Wall Street is a vast orphanage for grey pot holes
and for taxes this year
I sent in my teeth
the I.R.S. shows up at my
front door to thank me
I speed out my back door
when freedom rings

I don’t have a back door but
a window with a black fire escape
ladder leading down
into the courtyard dumpster
I have a Bach Door called
“The Fugue” I slip through “The Fugue Door”
and strike a pieta pose with
Grampa because I want to die
before he dies so he holds me a
minute in his white gown and gives
me back to my life he says
IT’S NOT FINISHED.

*

SISTER

Sister why are you looking at me
Well why do you think I’m looking at you
She’s sitting in a chair I’m standing
I kneel down after she says it we hug and
My face is mashed in her long black rough hair
Belgrade marijuana Belgrade home made liquor
Belgrade air with that special uranium rain tang scent.
Bent. We kiss each other. We begin to kiss.
When we were kids the adults told us
To kiss each other that we were brother and sister.
Now we are at each other. We are listening. We
Are finally listening now and that is good.
We are being obedient obedienter
Than they ever might’ve wanted us to be.
We are pressing against each other wet and we
Get to the bed undress each other and feel each other and I ask her
Do you have a condom she says No we don’t need a condom
We’re just going to use our hands so we do we use our hands
On each other until we come first her then me when she comes

 


Filip Marinovich is the author of And if You Don’t Go Crazy I’ll Meet Your Here Tomorrow and Zero Readership, both from Ugly Duckling Presse. His current incarnation is Wolfman Librarian, whose limbs are strewn throughout the worldwide web, at such fabulous stations as Elective AffinitiesEOAGH, and Overpass Books.

WHAT CREATES YOU TO MOTIVATE

Pain.
Ha! Ha! Ha!
We did 24 hours of
Work in
One minute.