Marcus Slease
from Godzeenie


(For Zofia)

“The Bright tongue of the two / languages / dance in the one light”
(Robert Duncan)

in my passages, in my other

lives, shuffling cards, talking

to myself, I could draw

blood with stolen

ladies & shinning

rings, safety round

the moon & blood & snot

& seeds, wrong about

harmony, wrong, u know,

constantly, I would summon


gossip, unskin

the hawk with its un-

relenting eyes, it is

never simple, these

passages, these pro-

miscious wanders with

gravel in my teeth & the old

west wind tugging

my elbows, can’t won’t

have her, my windows

shot to hell, the smell

of abyss under my

muffled pillow, Ireland

and God are fish-

bones jabbing

my throat, Godzeenie

is the super-

market, the

ancient rain, and the





Spinoza Pub, Zory




Block 7A

You’re a bit of an oyster in the project we’re measuring. Enjoy it. Divide the gold from the gate. Say kaPUSta and paPRUSsia. Say I’ve lost my frog and god JAY yest toilet TA. They’ll give you a sign. Don’t stand there shaking your head. Pick up the wrench and screw on your legs. Your gonna need them. Bouncing on the liebe strasse, you aren’t closed but a bit pink. Don’t spare the surprise. German will enter but remember this is lower Silesia.

Measured by miles. It’s erratic in your throat. The Z’s keep coming along with the funny L’s. Remember the pigeon and the stuffed cabbage shaped like a pigeon. Desperate with your teeth on a pillow. The pierogi Z meat came with kaPUSta. This is not a story. You resemble YOU, a bit, on the inside. Co to jest? Ile kosztuje? Lick the spoon and don’t fear the meaning. Your neck will stretch naturally.

You’re a bit of snake in the trees we’re measuring. Connections from the body originate in the trees. Shake off the snails and try to keep from falling on the bus. Ride the senses or deride them, it doesn’t matter. With you and your dizzard. Jeden Chwila, ein moment, wait a while until it matters. So close to the moment it hurts. Distance can’t chase away the goblins. Learn to fall. Don’t know what you know. Make your little piles. Hybrid systems. You want a new shadow in the gazesheet. You want to cement all the hours of all the years. Don’t hesitate. It’s impossible.

What we measure is measured by you. Don’t project a little escape. The bars are behind the walls. A tin can rolls down Wladyslawa Street and you almost hear English. Auf English: you can’t step on what you can’t see. Air out your rose and investigate your fatty eyelids. Dirt in the square and wind in your head, vows are weightless. Taoist band-aids. Forever is measured in the moment but matriculated in the hour.