The One in Which I Set Sail on the Orlando and Do Shots with Madame X
Why weep
we take off for the high seas on roller skates
trigger cut, neat the damned
abt time we reject society.
Out past the breakwater at Provincetown
pill-like lights
pinkish reddish
blueish
an outcast of glittering stars
and Madame X is saying
—Virginia thought Ulysses a mis-fire,
cutthroat, inferior water.
We laugh, do shots
manifest theater
to the enchantment of blue sailors.
I don a ruff, and so do you
seven days later I’m a beautiful woman
and you’re a boy with a stiletto heart.
No difference
at all. We bang
and boink.
Watch this space:
I shave my bush and go down a pant size.
You taste of vermillion
and massive gold earrings,
a hint of hibiscus
the syntax of otherness —
We burgle and
bang,
pluck blood from the countess
out past the breakwater at Provincetown.
You bet I cried
when we sailed the history of the world.
On Boats
We’ve abandoned our comfortable life on land
And are messing about in boats,
Blue-eyed birds badminton the sky
As we tarry and bide, tarry and bide.
We’ve abandoned our comfortable life on land
And are messing about in boats,
Traded motoring attire for Italian speedos,
Our days like Rimbaud without a lighthouse.
You do handstands on the deck
Rise and fall like a waterclock
Say, ‘Did you know
I’ve never been in a boat before?’
‘And now you’re messing about,’
I reply, doing chin-ups on the jibboom;
Man o’ war float below my feet
Like trick shots in a billiard room.
Tiny Wrists
It’s 6:20 in Malè Svatoňovice
which means it’s 12:20 in New York.
Nobody here is a 5th generation
New York School poet and even fewer people
wear a watch. It’s Saints Cyril and Methodious Day.
I’m eating a plum Frgál. Last night
Baby carried a watermelon and Johny Castle
said ‘It takes a real saint to ask daddy.’
Nova Cinema plays classic American movies all summer.
If Godard wasn’t a pile of scraps he’d have a hard-on.
Take the A train to Cinecittà.
Cinema is the most powerful weapon.
I head out the door
and it’s the kind of place where a woman falls in love with a sheep.
All the banks are closed.
Nothing can prepare you for the abandoned balloon race
or Lutz and Alex sitting in the trees
or the nativity pilgrims clad in loosely fitting raincoats.
I visit the Čapek Brothers Museum
and buy a copy of Karel Capek’s play Rossum’s Universal Robots
(R.U.R. , 1921). Miss Chytilová, the museum guide,
says the word ‘robot’ comes from the Czech word robota, or forced labor.
I cross the square. Have a pilsner with the Virgin.
List all the reasons why I love her tiny little wrists
the sharp edges, the melancholy resolutions
the struggle for utopia,
the way she makes a little mess
and moves on
the way sadness shares a Latin root
with sated.
The Colors of Fassbinder
We’re in the kitchen when time emerges
like a fishing net on the water
love is overwhelming
until it’s a giant yaaa W n
fresh air is hard to beat
and the colors of Fassbinder
good sandwiches
rumors of blueberry picking
the ships are going to Mexico
all very chummy
Bonaire, then Curacao
and the colors of Fassbinder
are hard to beat
and the brightness of things happening
is hard to beat
we’re in the kitchen when you say
my sunburn is served on a grand scale
July, July, July
the hammock and its giant yaaa-
W n
my tennis elbow casts a wide net
and you’re reading Basho
while you trim the hedges
and the colors of Fassbinder
shine
like
blood
on the gills.
Damon Hubbs is the poetry editor at Blood+Honey and The Argyle Magazine. He’s the author of the full-length collection Venus at the Arms Fair (Alien Buddha Press, 2024). Recent publications include Revolution John, Horror Sleaze Trash, Farewell Transmission, The Gorko Gazette, Expat Press, The Literary Underground, Hobart, and others. He lives in New England.
This is the fourth feature in the Urban Pigs Press CASTAWAYS callout, which celebrates the release of the latest Urban Pigs title Robinson Crusoe Maybe by guest editor Colin Gee. Colin is founder and editor of The Gorko Gazette and author of several books.
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