new poems Page 11
in other words grandma and daughter”
our ladies don’t cut
anything off then sew it
back on again maybe that’s why
they find
so many husbands
in the Federal Republic of Germany
in Australia Africa America
and various emirates
maybe that’s how Madame Walewska
and Princess Łowicka
along with Marquis Wielopolski
influenced the shape of the Duchy of Warsaw
and the Congress Kingdom
On Fat Thursday
I also heard on the radio
that Osama bin Laden
is very thin
and is six feet tall
that by mistake
in Afghanistan the Americans bombed
British soldiers and a wedding party
and a Chinese restaurant in Belgrade
I’m worried that as part of their
maneuvers they might bomb
the caves in Ojców
led by false information
that it’s the hiding place
of King Władysław the Short
about whom the see eye eh and eff bee eye
have been wrongly informed
(by Polish counterintelligence)
that he is only three
feet (tall) lentils are ground
by the mill near the mound
of Krakus and Wanda
I’m overcome with lenten
and unlenten thoughts
that Fat Thursday is followed
by Lean Friday
and lean backsides are followed
by men’s eyes
yet
will we find
a remedy for this
before the end of history?!
because
it turns out that between
a chimpanzee and
a
hyu-
man
there’s only 1.02%
genetic difference
wow! wau?
I rub my eyes
I wake in the morning
in some jailhouse
without bars
where am I I ask
just where am I
I spot a newspaper on a hook
I see from the language
that it’s a Polish paper
our Poland
still unsold
not yet in the hands of Fortinbras
the Norwegian lord
I rub my eyes
where am I
just where am I
I see bars everywhere
this world
is out of shape
someone whispers to me
that it’s the kingdom of Denmark
but from the heavens I hear
a song by Moniuszko
Jontek’s aria
for bread good sir for bread
so it’s not Denmark
I’m in Poland
on Promień Street
thank the Lord!
and where’s Napoleon?
Napoleon is with us!
and Chirac? Chirac’s without us
in St. Petersburg
maybe he’ll meet Telimena there
Master Tadeusz Ryvin Robak
Telimena will explain it all to him
the good Frenchman
was bathed in tears
at the pillory in the Wrocław market square
by the fountain
his hands kissed
by Polish matrons
perhaps he’ll forgive us
eat bigos and truffles
wash down his snails with Bison Brand vodka
and his lapin with Chopin
or Polish moonshine
at the world’s fair
I wake up there are bars again
I rub my eyes
this world is out of shape
you’re at home
you’re in your home
in Poland
that is to say nowhere
King Ubu
growls at me
his back turned
so this isn’t Denmark
I pull the bars aside! I see a bosom
the bosom of Emilia Plater
and that of Sofia Loren what’s she doing
here? advertising noodles
pizza and spaghetti the enchanting
Neapolitanness
she’s not the only one promoting us
the great Sam Domingo
will sing to us
out of the goodness of his heart
he won’t take a penny
so once again we are
the inspiration of Europe of the World
I hear the flutter of hussars’ wings
it’s our painted uhlans
flying off to Babylon
and the storks? our storks
have also flown away scared off
by Dutch women what about the nightingales?
though the nightingales have been disturbed
they’ve remained in the Homeland!
so it’s not Holland!
I’m in Poland in Wrocław
in Biskupin on my good
old sofa
I wake in surprise
so we’re a kingdom again?
yes yes
the kingdom of two nations!
but the Lithuanians won’t have us
Jagiełło’s been declared a traitor
they worship Mendog
so what? Landsbergis loves us
plays the piano in the Polish
parliament
a fine Lithuanian even though
he’s a nationalist
and Klaus? he sort of looks askance
then what of the Triangle? the Vyšehrad one
it’s missing an angle
thank the lord
we have the Weimar triangle
in reserve
our admiral was given
a warship (admiral?
was that Father Jankowski?
why does a priest need a warship
with no cannon no anchor no purpose)
in our department there was
a kind old woman the one
in the miniskirt with the rose pinned to her breast
a big fan of Bronek
when she spoke about Poland
she was in seventh heaven
The Russian tsar is back in Petersburg
a hero
bloody Nikolai
the martyr
the Prussian king
Frederick the Great
has also returned
to his plinth in Berlin
the Bulgarian king is back
the Romanian king
the prince of Paris
and also our good emperor
and apostolic lord
of Kraków of Austria
of the Czechs (once again
of Kraków!)
so this isn’t Denmark?
I’m in Poland
thank the Lord!
mini universe
the TV host in her
miniskirt crosses her legs
(pity it’s not behind her neck)
tosses back her (dandruff-free) hair
pulls down her maxi mini
aligns her knees
her feet
un-decidedly
as befits
a well-mannered “feminist”
and starts to speak
“congratulations gentlemen
that’s fabulous!
you yourselves
Polish astronomers
not just Engel and Boniek
and Copernicus
that’s so cool!
so professor are you trying
to tell me . . . get outta here . . .
that this spherical system
has fifteen billion
stars sorry
spherical monads
let me ask which of you
gentlemen first got the idea”
The astronomer
with the beard opens his mouth
to say something about a black hole
but the “moderator” doesn’t let him (speak)
it’s such a neat idea
it gives me goosebumps
like Telimena in Master Tadeusz
professor you say it was an American
how do you explain the fact
that among astronomers there are so few
ladies
and so many Americans . . .
(laughter)
and are you professor
going to discover something new
in the superhole
maybe something metaphysical
tiny
that seems like nothing at all
and how did it all begin
well I have to disappoint you
the great explosion is just
an idea
whether it was an explosion or an act
of creation
we don’t know
in that case professor let’s come back down
to earth
among astronomers
is there a lot of rivalry
competition for titles awards
money
do astronomers have any
purely human foibles
why do women
so rarely look
through telescopes
is this a “male” profession
is there not something
we could call feminine astronomy
is antimatter
less interesting
to women
than conception
does a tiny something not
appear in the sky
ma’am!
present-day astronomers don’t
see the sky! they’re very busy
in modern astronomy
there’s no time to gaze
at the stars
astronomy is not poetry
but teleology
what’s needed is money
lots of money
for small amounts of money
you can see something
through a keyhole
in a word professor
it’s all about money money
on the far side of the black hole
money’s still what counts
you’re terrifying me professor
professor I’m a woman
does an astronomer regard
sex
with an astronomical eye
or is he
just a regular macho man
who likes those things
I wish you all the stars in the sky
bye now
next week we’ll be talking
about
genetics
and memetics
please join us for our
poetry club
it could be said that never
before have Polish astronomers
discovered so many planets
a veritable avalanche of planets comets
soon every Pole may have
his own planet
and the telescope will take its place
alongside the skis and the paintbox
ma’am
it’s not so simple
a planet discovered last Tuesday
is five thousand
light years away
I find that hard to believe professor
surely you’re joking!
yes yes
ma’am
competition in space
gossip in astronomy
and also relief and joy that we . . .
I’ll keep my fingers crossed professor!
[January 2003]
the wheels are going round
yesterday between apocalypse and idyll
I heard across the ether
that the greenhouse effect
is caused
not only by the automobile industry
but also by cowpats
which release large amounts
of gas into the atmosphere
and so scientists are working on
a vaccine to prevent gas in cows
(while we are reminded in the process that
the number of cattle far exceeds
the needs of the human population)
I started thinking (the wheels are going round)
about the pats produced
by six billion people (more or less)
I came up with an idea for a virtual
worldwide global bank of gases
One could begin with the Bloating Foundation
“Prometheus-Gas” known for short as “Crapoco”
a gas pipeline
bypassing Russian Norway Iraq and the Tatra Mountain
National Park (as well as Southern Park in Wrocław
where they’re putting up a statue of Chopin)
as a side product the anti-gas vaccine
could be marketed to retirees
and politicians
whose number far
exceeds the needs
of the country
Salvador Dalí
wrote years ago in a prophetic
rapture
“I had an aunt whom any kind
of scatology filled with disgust.
At the very idea that she might fart,
her eyes would fill with tears.
She was immensely proud that
she had never farted in her life . . .”
a vaccine against wind
will also take away
the raison d’être of various
Zoiluses who
are able to turn farts
into thunder (as they say in German
vom Furz ein Donner machen)
the wheels are going round
our gas
pipeline will bypass Kaliningrad
the statue of Kant Alaska Siberia
Belarus and Kraków
it will take into consideration
the strategic significance
of the Opole music festival
the wheels are going round, see?
I’m wasted here after all
it’s high time
speech conversation dialogue
Humans have the gift of speech
This distinguishes people from animals
driver: “get the fuck
out of the car”
passenger: “you have no right”
driver: “in my cab
I got every right”
this dialogue concluded at the intersection
of Jana Pawła II
and Anielewicza Streets
cab drivers beat up a lady
professor from a western university
and boxed the ears
of a theater critic
the mayor of this Paris of the North
promised a thorough inquiry
three erotics
someone praised you sir
for a short and piquant erotic
I read it with interest
“Polyxena takes off her panties”
bring me heavier armor
I thought and wrote
two Gothic-Baroque erotics
“Petronella pulled on her panties”
“Greta Garbo steps out with no panties”
perhaps they’ll make you smile
. . .
I was born a rhinoceros
with thick skin and a horn on my nose
I wanted to become a butterfly
but I was told
I have to be a rhinoceros
then I wanted to be
a songbird a stork
but I was told it wasn’t possible
I asked why–the answer was
because you’re a rhinoceros
I wanted to be a
monkey
even a parrot!
but I was told . . . NO
I dreamt I had
soft pink skin
and a tiny nose like Cleopatra
but I was reminded that
I have really really thick skin
and that my horn is a mark of my identity
you were are and will be a rhinoceros
till the day you die
rhinoceros
my name is Tony
I’m a white rhino
I’ve never seen my homeland
of South Africa
my mother is called Tessa
I was born in a zoo
in a European capital
I was an only child
I never played with other little
rhinos
I was brought up behind heavy bars
with my mama I don’t remember my daddy
mama told me that right after
their wedding night
daddy went back home to his city
supposedly his name was Diogenes
My name is Tony when
I was little I wanted to be
a butterfly but I was
told I was born a rhino
and have to be a rhino
I wanted to become a sparrow
because sparrows could fly
in and out of our cage they were free
they chirruped merrily so I wanted