Poems

THE MONOGAMOUS COCK-MAN TRANSFORMER

I’m a gargantuan rooster –
Look,
I just flew inside through the window at twilight
and bristled are my feathers.

I copulate with you over and over again
Rivers of your blood
change
with every second
I betray the past you
with the present one –
with every move,
flutter of the wings
I cradle a small feather
of your youth.

I’m a gargantuan rooster:
I shine with my golden
eye
And comb the sky with my crest
When
We pupate
In the bedding.

Warszawa, January 6 2020

THE ROOSTERS BUILDS UP THE HOUSE

Mr. Cock-Bob-The-Builder
is building a nest –
crazily, crazily,
out of saliva, blood, and sperm
out of sweat – he’s building!

just like Pollock around the canvas,
he’s dancing around the foundations
with his wings, his wings, his wings
he’s building a nest –

and swishing a comb –
over the cliff, over the cliff –
always over the cliff
He builds above the abyss with his sight
Like a drill – into space and
Down – as if from plasticine
as if in Neverhood – he’s building!
As if out of Lego – he’s builidng!
As if on a branch – into the night! –

so the winds – could hum,
the storms – knock off,
the tides – carry,
the seas –  lacerate,
the islands –  host,
the cities –  protect,
the shelters –  foster.

The rooster is already a rooster broth –
A transparent experiencing
the possibilities of horizon,
iridescent as a drop of fat:

The chanting of every fiber –
between melancholy and ecstasy,
Anger and calm –

This song dwells already in your skull
And pounds circles with your pelvis:
The ancient concrete mixer.

Rising again, the New rises once again–
Harmonized
with the spectral coarseness of existence.
It waits for you. With its tasks.

Warsaw, March 10 2021

SUPER-ROOSTER TO THE RESCUE

To squeeze into a Spider-man suit
the Rooster must have made cuts here and there
especially on the tips:
of the head – to sprout his red shoots
of quantum telegraphy,
and down there –
to cool his passion
a bit.

The suffixes wave like anemones
at the ocean’s bottom,
they shine erected.

He is handsome and he is himself in this outfit –
a ruler of the universe, a rooftop tomcat,
Yes, Yes:
the roof wide open
and
meow meow! cock-a-doodle-doo!
into the great night –
a light observatory
like gloomy Gotham.


He’s ready:
like a Sunday roast
filling up with a stock,
Already lurking to jump
straight into the gaping hole

of your loneliness

to save you from
dissatisfaction.

Siedlce, March 15 2021

THE NINE ½ WEEKS OF THE ROOSTER

An open fridge
sheds
the soft yellow light,
just like in Rembrandt.
A rooster is standing in front of it,
Handsome: sparkling eyes,
A crest – erected,
and these wattles fluttering under
a beak.

Fleshy caruncles
are reddening
and with a hand prepared as if for a karate chop
the rooster slowly
is depriving himself of his plumage,
majestically revealing parcels of his own crudely outlined
meatiness.
He’s already climbing up
the shelves as if up a scaffolding
High, the highest,
Firm and exposed.

He rolled in between
cheeses and vegetables,
completing this multiplying Infinity
Foodscape-by-Erro-1964.
In the dimmed light he closed eyes and the door –
hands tight to the body:
Et Arcadia ego.

Now he’s tensing up like a scrotum at its zenith
Ready for the Sunday resurrection.

When you open the fridge,
He will react with a spasmodic impulse
to the light,

in total alacrity
to be picked with a toothpick
fiber by fiber

in the rumpled sheets.

Warsaw, January 26, 2020

ENCYCLICAL OF THE ROOSTER IN LOVE

A well-known Polish writer
at a meeting with her readers
confessed that she has a problem with describing
the – so called attention, please: ‘moment’.
The Rooster inside me
Died of embarrassment,
plucked himself and bathed with broth.

And then at once the fragments from Toni Morrison
and Truman Capote
came to my mind –
beautiful,
causing a boner.

Poland,
Kneel once but mean it,
Bend over
And expose your heart:
Stark naked from every side.

Warsaw, January 2020

MR. COCKITO LOOKS AT HIS FACE IN THE MIRROR

Who wrote our faces…
Zbigniew Herbert, Mr. Cogito Looks at His Face in the Mirror


These beautiful outgrowths, protruding corals of nature
Are written by the Big Bang’s huge – ‘Boom’
And the double chin was a heritage
After a platter served with a loving hand,
But it disappeared thanks to YouTube workouts.
Eyes as if both in convergent and divergent strabismus
From too much looking
Might be a gift from some hunter of wonders.
They are happy because nothing has been missed
And in the open air they could keep an eye on the clothes.
The ear-radars – I know:
One on the violin, the other on the harmonica,
And the third on the mandolin – a damn good player!

The adequate forehead can think right enough:
The ancestors’ sweet caresses in a haystack
And the wanted brat under the wedding dress,
A pinch of peasant respect for work,
The desire to fly into space, illuminations of mystics,
And – well – a distant seclusion.

In front of the mirror the inherited face
With a strong beak to break through the darkness:
Among the scents of the stakes, which used to caress
A soft vagina with fire –  and all this to the accompaniment of
Paleolithic drums of ecstasy.

The egg falls next to the hen,
But it goes on – towards Infinity

It laughs like a child on a roller coaster
And doesn’t give a shit about all the tournaments.

Warsaw, January 26 2021

THE ROOSTER IN ECSTASY

And when the Rooster got pissed off
He fucked all the books out of the house
And thus – the musty dust
Of stale words.

They buzzed like hornets,
Drily, tempting with secondary worlds.
The twitter of horror
Aroused with a wild fire.

The rooster was chopping the shelves with an ax
Using all his arms
Alone with his Pride made in Lamancha
protruding from his pants.

He fought this man o’war of concepts and fetters
With water and vinegar,
With ecological liquid,
With a cloth and hair, kneeling

Until the Light entered him.

Warsaw, November 3 2021