Showing posts with label erasure poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label erasure poems. Show all posts

Thursday, March 16, 2017

Ulysses erasure poems up at the Altered Scale blog

Two Poems by Larissa Shmailo

Scylla and Charybdis

Unsheathe your dagger definitions.
Streams of tendency
and the eons they worship.

God’s noise in the street: Space.

What is a ghost? Dialectic:
No man, not a woman,
will ever know.



Oxen of the Sun

Send us, bright one, light one, wombfruit.
Before born babe bliss had; 
within womb won he worship.
Too, she will bring forth by God
His bounty and have joy of 
her childing. 
(A pregnancy without joy, 
a birth without pangs, a
body without blemish, a 
belly without bigness.) 

There, that got in, through pleading, 
her belly. And now on the stools,
poor body, two days past her time,
the midwives sore and can’t deliver.
The abnormalities of harelip, breast 
mole, supernumerary digit, straw-
berry mark and portwine stain.
Swineheaded, doghaired infants 
occasionally born.

Little father, little father:
The Minotaur.

*Note: Both poems are erasures from Ulysses

http://thealteredscale.blogspot.com/2017/03/two-poems-by-larissa-shmailo_25.html

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Happy Bloomsday! Ulysses Erasure Poems


ERASURE, ULYSSES EPISODE FIVE: "THE LOTUS EATERS"

BY LORRIES ALONG SIR JOHN ROGERSON'S QUAY
past Nichols' the undertaker's. Eleven, daresay.

Sent his right hand with slow grace over his hair:  
Where was the chap I saw in that picture somewhere?  
Ah, in the dead sea, floating on his back; 
It's a law like that. Curriculum. Crack.
It's the force of gravity of the earth is the weight.
Per second, per second. Postoffice. Too late.

Eleven, is it? I only heard it last night.
What's wrong with him? Dead. And, he filled up, all right.

Chloroform. Laudanum. Sleeping draughts. Phlegm.
Better leave him the paper and get shut of him.

 

Bloomsday poem #2:
ERASURE, ULYSSES EPISODE 1O: THE WANDERING ROCKS

Legs shot off by cannon balls,
Ending their days in some pauper ward;
If I had served my God as I had my king,
It was probable he would certainly call.

Pilate, old back that owlin mob; but one

should be charitable, according to their lights
 
Unfortunate, people to die unprepared, 
Excessive for a journey so short and cheap.
A thousand casualties. And heartrending scenes.
Human eyes: pleading. Sanktus! Amen.

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