Urayoán Noel
uncertain cruising altitudes
uncertain cruising altitudes
On the plane from Argentina
Reading Lamborghini
An Argentinean poet
Born the same day I was
The same year as my father
Lamborghini like the car
Lamb or genie?
Who’s to say---
Pet him and see
I couldn’t say no to you, that “no...o,”
because I’d gotten close to you: like so,
O. Lamb lived in bedlam
Died (in bed?) in ‘85
Embedded like I am
In lang itch
He wrote about incest, bestiality, pederasty, literary theory
& pulled glossolalic glocks
On the suburban streets of our semantic cities
He drugged, fucked (Did? Was?),
Died in Barcelona
(In bars? A Loner?)
(With scars? A boner?)
And over the years: how many will have ridden me
while, old, you lost your access
to the sea
My favorite verse of his is
____________ (SHUFFLE THROUGH SELECTED POEMS)
“Me niego totalmente a escribir en mi lengua”
(Chosen at random: “I totally refuse
To write in my tongue”)
Notice the italics---
But aren’t all Argentines Italics?
Lamborghini vroom vroom
He goes well with the
Swell smell of verbi
celli
maggoty aftertaste in Osvaldo’s angel hair
And I didn’t compare you to the Greek gods
(I steer clear of such foolishness).
His poems read like fake diary entries
sort of like what you’re reading
now, nao, não
psychoanalytic
casting couch confessions
bad literary theory
good B-movie dialogue
same thing: the mother,
hysteria,
naked goddesses,
hung lifeguards,
wordplays,
lurid days in warped daze in
an oversized haul
and dais
And well,
and now, the prison queens will have a ball.
Which ain’t the same!
his shit was real primal
but then again whose shit isn’t
