III

Leslie Scalapino

Flying fish in the blue ocean — the freighter going.
    Whales —in the swells or still, already having died (seen from the side of one of the ships) in mid ocean — many, so that they’re amongst them. Chugging of the engine — but a deep chugging from the freighter slowing or stopping amidst the blood clouds in swells from the flagged floating bodies of the creatures that are being harpooned. That’s occurring. A stowaway is sent in a rowboat from the freighter to the other ship. The stowaway or a whaler who falls out of the rowboat into the high swells of waves — the man who’d fallen from the boat waving but not so as to be picked up by them, which he is.
    Lying on the rubber inflated mattress-raft in the dark city apartment — person alone. People calling out who’re yelling at night. Who’re ordinary people or many many all the way along the street in poor clothes asking for money. One man happened to be given three dimes which were in the pocket of the person who is later lying sleeping deeply on the rubber mattress-raft, the man looked so defeated and disappointed by the money that had been given to him.
    Before the rubber-raft mattress, her going into the department store — on the mattress raft sleeping deeply as if sunken much later at a different time. From then there had been the crowd of people at the front entrance near subway entrance asking for money, a man on a sled with no legs at the door of the department store — which was merely that with the appearance of cities in it that was really beautiful. Merely commercial as beautiful and could not be done otherwise.
    The float mattress raft on the floor — the person in a deep sleep on it as that being the same. But in bitter cold, her face stung by the freezing wind walking at night and people begging on the street in that.
    Ordinary other people calling out at night — or yelling things. Heard from the person being on the float mattress raft the flesh machine body stretched out straight.
   Balmy — the man crapping squatting by the side as the train goes by seen from his back — lily bogs in the city with small dark pigs floating in them.
    But it’s bitterly cold — outside, not from lying on the mattress floor raft or people out — which is the same, which is that.
    People squatting outside. Or washing.
    Seen from riding in the bus — so above, people many all along the street with their backs to the cars and bathing wet with soap delicately from spigots that would be out from a wall many on the street.
   Woman crapping on the sidewalk near a restaurant in front of which she lives — out. Living there.
   Going into the lobby where the people, who’re really chic, or who’ve been met won’t speak to a person who’s not important — class-ridden asinine, really destroyed by them.

                    who grew up in the forest and emerged from
                    it a singer because he had been talking with
                    the birds throughout his childhood 

    Going on the subway which stops and slows — before that on the mattress raft float lying — only shuts down to downtown trains, from a man who’s walking on the track obstructing.
    Everywhere people around — shivering in the freezing wind. Asking for money.

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Leslie Scalapino

Leslie Scalapino (July 25, 1944 – May 28, 2010) was born in Santa Barbara, California and raised in Berkeley. She traveled throughout her youth and adulthood to Asia, Africa and Europe—including Tibet, Bhutan, Japan, India, Mongolia, Yemen, Libya, and elsewhere—and her writing was intensely influenced by these experiences. She published her first book, O and Other Poems, in 1976. In 1986, she founded O Books, dedicated to publishing innovative works by young and emerging poets, as well as prominent and established writers. She also taught writing for nearly 25 years at various institutions, including Bard College (16 years in the MFA program), Mills College, the San Francisco Art Institute, and the California College of Arts in San Francisco. She lived with Tom White, her husband and friend of 35 years, in Oakland, CA until her death in 2010.

The Return of Painting, The Pearl, and Orion

Northfield, Massachusetts

"In THE RETURN OF PAINTING, the verbal swarms cluster around AIDS patients and the homeless. Scalapino's approach reaches its galvanizing best in ORION. Openly asserting that her 'refusal of order is rebellion,' poet Scalapino's writing is bold and invigorating. Yet ultimately, her book is like a tantalizing linguistic mobile, with words, phrases and perspectives now colliding, now combining to form a disjunctive portrait of reality that the reader can all too rarely grasp" — Publishers Weekly
 
 

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