FIVE POEMS by CHASE PADUSNIAK

So Swoon Me Starry Night

 

Our bodies do not remain i
N that bonemeal bed o
N Bleecker Street, encased i
N kevlar caccoons, rotting ami
Dst Cosmo, blaring Gossip Girl.

Mine remains endeared t
O the inside of my own flesh
Face, debating Todestrieb
And ego ergonomics wi
Th Wilhelm Reich, outside.

Yours sprints, presuming no
Thing from Brooklyn and back,
Like Ahab bowing before an I
Dol of a great ivory cock, env
Eloped in sorority signs, inside.

Veni, veni Mephistophele!

Thematically, our souls do remain un
Derneath the sweated streets i
N precisely that ego shared (a
S far as Lacan is concerned by us both
) without tear or other pied beauty.

Theme, however, is no
T the matter of poetry any
More than is our love the mat
Ter of song and dance, than I
T is Morrissey’s business whom I

Refuse to fuck—chas
Tity begging me once aga
In for momentary lapse as Aug
Ustine peers through your unlock
Able keyhole, nearest Kurt Cobain.

Lente, lente currite noctis equi!

When all is said and done,

The wisdom of maggot-eaters suffices:

Gehyrest þu, Eadwacer?   Uncerne earne hwelp
bireð Wulf to wuda. þæt mon eaþe tosliteð   þætte næfre gesomnad wæs,
uncer giedd geador.

 

 

 

The Pole Dance of the Stars

 

Oil-clogged pores stare at
Me across a New York white-
Marble bungalow, enframed
In gold leaves, twisted around
Ensconced, puckered lips,
Stiff kisses blown until they
Explode and a voice announces

Finish Him

I am finished—consummatum est
In the same way Fiona Apple relates
That, indeed, no matter how hard we
try

When the Pawn Hits the Conflicts He Thinks like a King What He Knows Throws the Blows When He Goes to the Fight and He’ll Win the Whole Thing ‘fore He Enters the Ring There’s No Body to Batter When Your Mind Is Your Might so When You Go Solo, You Hold Your Own Hand and Remember That Depth Is the Greatest of Heights and If You Know Where You Stand, Then You Know Where to Land and If You Fall It Won’t Matter, Cuz You’ll Know That You’re Right.

Once I heard her described as Tumblr
Set to music, which would be a real
Shame—my liking Tumblr and all,
Fragile glass dildos and poppers
Slithering up adolescent nostrils at

NYU

Locus amœnus for twisted ticking-time bombs like yours truly glutted on ASMR videos and incorr
Igible fantasies of power—in the Foucauldian sense—before they disappear into the real
Ity itself darker than whatever erectile manias they’d concocted at Leather Man or Brad’s or

The Idler Wheel Is Wiser Than the Driver of the Screw and Whipping Cords Will Serve You More Than Ropes Will Ever Do

Like music such people spi
N around and around and
Look out for Evil and NYC
With Slow Hands wrap
Ped around Stella and Sidera,
Gagging and binding themselv
Es even as they shove brown band
Anas into the wrong orif
Ices without regard for

Signifiers

 

 

 

Moses the Black Won’t Take Your Shit

 

‘tseasy enough to
Be awake at 4 A
M with a hairline
Receding before an
Onslaught of 100
0 shades of satin
Asking:

______Ooooooooooooo is there an ethics worth choosing when freedom is a burden ooooooooooooooo

Ooooooooooooo how can I choose from among multifarious options in a post-Nietzschean world oooooo

Oooooooooooooo Ian Curtis was dead by 23 and right now you’re asking yourself about ethics oooooooo

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo Young M.A ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

‘tseasy enough to
slam head again
St would-be-goose-do
Wn pillow and vom
It half-baked truism
S onto crisp, clean bed
Sheets

 

 

 

When You Sleep

 

1. Breathe

2. Keep breathing.

3. Think about

4. Me.

5. Have that nightmare again.

6. Me.

5. About me.

 

 

 

It Is the Gaps That Contour

 

 

“Moi aussi, je suis autre que ce que je m’imagine être. Le savoir, c’est le pardon.” – Simone

+

You know this.

1

A Nazarene Carpenter
With an accent
Asks you to
Pray for him.

Broken, broken, broken
Glass in a bathroom.
Sky-clear screams of
Harmony.

They could be pleasant
But they are not.
And that
Is what matters.

Myers and Briggs
Take a Sunday stroll

And are weighed in Libra

By an unseen hand.

 

“Ante omnia mutuam in vosmet ipsos caritatem continuam habentes quia caritas operit multitudinem peccatorum.” – Simon

+

Veni, veni, Sancte.

II

Chet has sex with the
Filles de Kilimanjaro

And Huey cracks open a
Cold one with the catamites.

And all are loved.

In our patience,
These are formalized gaps and

Heidegger would be

Less than thrilled.

Greta Gerwig fantasizes too
About hot wax

And how long

It takes.

 

“If anyone allowed Love to conquer him,
He would then conquer love completely.
I hope this will be your experience.”
– Hadewijch

+

Sancte.

3

Andy Warhol was a Christian,
And Warhol was a Slav.
Andy Warhol was a Rusyn,
And Warhol was a Catholic.

Warhol, Andy was a Warhola
And an Andrew.

And even Tao Lin smiles.

 

“The last word, when all is heard: Fear.” – Qoheleth

+

Non nisi te.

IV

You too should read Hadewijch
And Marguerite and Mechthild,
Those names that can
Only be signs.

You too should know Simone
And Qoheleth and Simon and
Denis and even Schuster,
Those names that today can

Only be

Read.

You too should see that Jane
Was a lady before and after
She was Jane and asked:
“Can it signify?”

You

Too

Should

Think

Upon

Søren

In

The

Graveyard

In

A

Top

Hat.

These are suggestions for a chronic illness with many symptoms.

“Let us now advance to the purpose of the discourse by unfolding.” – Denis

+

Credo.

5

“He cost me much, but I wish he had lived to cost me more.” – Henry (II) on the death of Henry (young)

“If only I had died instead of you.” – David on the death of Absalom

“I spoke to him as a brother whom I have pardoned, and who has my complete trust.” – Karol on Mehmet

“You are loved.” – Angaelos on men who explode

 

And I did not
Ask for this,
And neither did you,
And that

Is

The

Gift.

And all are loved.

+

You love.