Thursday, August 04, 2011

Paterson: Book II, Chapter I, p. 57-58 (II)

Eisenstein’s Heavenly Man (II)

The film is a nickel
And worth it:
Eisenstein’s heavenly man.

“The meat is rotten!”: Vakulynchuk's corpse

Ice on the inside of a window: Alma-Ata

“Госуда́рственная пре́мия СССР!”: Moscow

Ca-ROCK-ithy, C-ROCK-ithy: 4 December, 1930

“Think of them as frescoes in motion!”: to Frida Kahlo

Whisps of chilled air: Alma-Ata

Strike!: Strike

“A film without equal in cinema!”: Joseph Goebbels

One hundred thousand dollars: py6 2,746,800

The numbness of a cheek: Alma-Ata

Fingers curling along the edge of a mattress: Alma-Ata

Iris out: Alma-Ata

In the morning, Rising: 11 February 1948

KMC 8/4/11

Paterson: Book II, Chapter I, p. 57-58 (I)

Eisenstein’s Heavenly Man (I)

Fifty feet           
On a silver screen //      


The meat is rotten!
The quarters unkempt!
The wages unfair!
The blood unjustly spilled!

(And in a darkened
room, eyes reflect light
and Tell: 
everything is shadows
moving faster
than they should be.)

Paterson: Book II, Chapter I, p. 58


Come and let me
have a look at you.

I'll not stare
at the obvious--
          the enormous,
          tired phallus;
                    the rises of strains
                    in the muscles 
                    of your forearm;
                              the purple bend
                              of awful skin;
                              the long-wished-lost

I'll not share
your story broadly--
          the fetal curse
          of a jealous 
                    the chasing through fields
                    of Other-claimed 
                              the thwarting,
                              of an angry, stubborn

I'll not mock
the life of verdict--
          the building
          in you    
          of the unspeakable thing;
                    the want
                    of love
                    or the thrust of it;
                              the longing
                              for finish,
                              and the prayer for

          Rather, I'll wait.
          I'll look you over,
          with my own two eyes,
          and see you blink.

          Who would have guessed
          it would take your presence
          to undo you?
          Who would have expected
          the weight of too much of you
          would be the weight you could not bear?

         The envy, friend, is yours.
         Stand up (as if you could not);
         and get out
         of my sight.

KMC 8/4/11