Steve Dalachinsky
Poet/collagist Steve Dalachinsky was born in Brooklyn after the last big war and has managed to survive lots of little wars. His book The Final Nite (Ugly Duckling Presse) won the PEN Oakland National Book Award. His most recent books are Fools Gold (2014 feral press), a superintendent's eyes (revised and expanded 2013 - unbearable/ autonomedia) and flying home, a collaboration with German visual artist Sig Bang Schmidt (Paris Lit Up Press 2015). His latest cd is The Fallout of Dreams with Dave Liebman and Richie Beirach (Roguart 2014). His poem “Particle Fever” was nominated for a 2015 Pushcart Prize. Forthcoming from Overpass Press The Invisible Ray, with artwork by Shalom Neuman.
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the snake reborn
(the work of keith haring 1978-1982)
the dog bit (its own aesthetic
chain / of language
individual shapes that make up a (w)hole
as in buffet
the hanging nudes upside down
birthing big black holes (in stomach
delivering baby chatter
leashed unstrung monochromatic whose-it-whats
zapped by saucers – blown jobbed / handfked
& gave it to polka dotted dog thru the wall
with the spectators screaming give us more oh host
of the alien boner o(i)nk
“& Steve said” said the viewer behind my limbs
not knowing
i was steve also >
beheading the head of the giver of head
its holy hoops of energy
done with the judgment of resident aliens
climbing the bastion of stick dick
zapped by the light from the undark
& therefore removing the dark from the circle
in the speckled chest of treasure(r)s
the time piece got crucified
& the snake ate itself & all else to form a new crawling family
naked jumbo-jackos leapfrogging over eachudders
stuck up smooth as…asses
tech/tonic plated involvement here seen as even video frags detect
the cut up presidents popes & art/scenes flattened on the sc(a)reen
clubbing clubbing clubbing oneself to death with song
painted into corners of know-me auto-journal didact
then A.I.D.S. the vigilante ante’s up &’s taken on board
the body as conveyer belt & another subway ride down to the chalk-line
the magic magic stick & the holy holy hoop
flash freaks & god walled up / kickerflicked little spores beat down
3 I.V.s & you’ll own the penalty little man
burning flattened pulse ground harder & harder into grounds
inside the prison grounds
monkey light held by its tail
radiating from yer under/currents currently behind glass
you hang there crucifix - eating the mermaid angel alive
your children lost in a bubble – big fish diving around yer corpse
you hang there – diving like the last breath gone
you hang there across the street – you hang there – beat down
the public stuck up your little alien ass
you hang there as the big snake cuts itself in too
feeds on itself & you & once again as always shits US out
& all’s reborn as you hang there
& Steve where ever he is whoever he is
owns all the penalties NOW
as you hang there little soul hang there.
field notes (from fragments april 2016)
1. 4/21
a.
one day i will be a radio
ranging from B to B
a wide ranging radio
a stranger to most cursing the
moaning discourse
of the narrowness of width
primero dispension
dipped
a radio like a prison imprisoned in a radio
immersion
i talk & sound that is not talk &
anyother
barbaric gestures not mastered by the barbarians
armed with & a source material & knobs
an unhappy panoply filled with static
unless one adjusts the antenna
& leave the kaleidoscope to US(e)
b.
where is the carnage of my youth
the instant obvious mass carnage
that invites channeling
a whine in habited by a worm of a tongue hooked on the sensation of hunger
one day i will be a radio & you my remote
a radio that like a mouth can speak a kind of shriveled worm talk
@ times surrounded by bad music
but without the problem of bad breath
a display(ced) case missing teeth
or
vice versa.
2. blues – 4/22
he was a bogrider
who couldn’t get started
just a kid in winter
broke & hungry
who had his own set of troubles
so long baby he said
i have a rambling mind
why should i hang around
i’m so worried i got the blues
the blues never left me
i’m goin’ back to the blues.
3. 4/24 5:45 a.m. – transformer
big bright moon
in the morning sky
i blink & it’s
gone
4. 4/22 - sentimental over you
the sun shimmers
off the river
onto the piano’s
legs
small pixelated
wavering sparkles
rippled
5. 4/24 kgb – approx. 4:30 a.m.
we don’t know if he gave him a blowjob
in the bathroom
we’ll never know
they were in there at least 20 minutes
alone
it was perhaps drink noise & toot
that told the tale of anatomical word
- lessness
& wonders
the street dramatically changed
by orphic exhales & ophul intake
it was nearing 5 a.m.
& last call - i was \\\ still in the bar
wondering where i’d been
as the lights went on & off
& the last flush ended
still in the burrow
with 4 boroughs left all approaching dawn
i realized that no matter how furious one becomes with one’s art
one should never forget tenderness
even if missing text or tense
6. 4/8/16
a.
guilty of a crime
response to a crime
victim
b.
there is a dance the feet do
a skeye hi
c.
where there is no criminal
there is no crime
where there is no crime
there is no guilt
7. 5/5/16
all in all here
the shepherd shuffles
the deck it’s in the cards
in the back of your head
but who taught you to bury your
forebrain
in the back of your garbled
badass-if-you-grab-at-someone-else’s/
silence
capped off by get what you can
buy the cornfields furry
edge.
8. inside buddha’s head
i discovered a letter
written by
a patron
somewhere between the
6th path &
karma
like all Japanese letters of the period
it was written from right to left
&
top to bottom
between each sentence
there was an ellipsis
for instance
“i
cannot
explain
.
.
.
”
this was the 13th century
& it was as if
AMIDA had an
afro…
9. 5/4/16
there is no room
for cutting
as the rug for instance
lifted
& there beneath
the gumbo
arU
a meta language
a dead
experience
it is interesting to see how
sound is made
10.
Poet/collagist Steve Dalachinsky was born in Brooklyn after the last big war and has managed to survive lots of little wars. His book The Final Nite (Ugly Duckling Presse) won the PEN Oakland National Book Award. His most recent books are Fools Gold (2014 feral press), a superintendent's eyes (revised and expanded 2013 - unbearable/ autonomedia) and flying home, a collaboration with German visual artist Sig Bang Schmidt (Paris Lit Up Press 2015). His latest cd is The Fallout of Dreams with Dave Liebman and Richie Beirach (Roguart 2014). His poem “Particle Fever” was nominated for a 2015 Pushcart Prize. Forthcoming from Overpass Press The Invisible Ray, with artwork by Shalom Neuman.
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