TWO POEMS by CHASE PADUSNIAK

Bathe Me in Honey, O You Boys

Typing and typed, I ask not
To be understood and not
To be undone, but merely not
To be misapprehended.

O, you boys, do not
Misapprehend anything I say; oh, do not
Mistake me for those people who are not
Quite so well developed, as learned in arts that are not
Useful.

O honey; o boys. Wrap me like texts about your nothings and naughts,
About your nitties and your gritties (but always in places not
Private). Bathe me in viscous things known and not
Known (but known).

These are the bathhouses of death, not
Where we sweat, but where we deny
Impressions upon a fabric, ancient, but not
Without meaning.

 

 

Ditty for Georg

“Michael asks me for ‘objectivity,’ and I say that June 4th 2011 is the first time I heard a death rattle, a growl from places he’s never been, but is going.” – L’auteur mort

“Yet the lovers are in connection with much that is dead.” – Georg

A mother’s death
Is an easy thing;
A broken heart,
Not at all.

In an age of social
“Objectivity,”
Death comes easiest
Of all.

Georg
Wilhelm
Friedrich:
Listen!

Your injustice was
“Thought.”
Mine is
“Feeling.”

Yours was
synthetic.
Mine?
Unappealing.

“while I am now afraid you will literally kill me

I think it’s a good poem now” – Michael

Chase Padusniak is a graduate student at Princeton University, where he works on medieval mystical literature and critical theory. He tweets at @ChasePadusniak