THE MONOGAMOUS COCK-MAN TRANSFORMER
I’m a gargantuan rooster –
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
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
And comb the sky with my crest
In the bedding.
Warszawa, January 6 2020
THE ROOSTERS BUILDS UP THE HOUSE
is building a nest –
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–
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
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,
the roof wide open
meow meow! cock-a-doodle-doo!
into the great night –
a light observatory
like gloomy Gotham.
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
Siedlce, March 15 2021
THE NINE ½ WEEKS OF THE ROOSTER
An open fridge
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
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
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
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 –
causing a boner.
Kneel once but mean it,
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