Anyone came into this world
with a squirt of sticky coding and pain –
there’s no avoiding that, comrade,
and I just have to tell you that, O elephant
I’m not thinking about in this psychic
room of convoluted tubules…
Primitive groove.
Trying and trying to put on
the big incognito sunglasses in the harsh light
of the cogito (neural crest)…
so there’s that distance I bend over
into in the false early spring…
contorted, but not masochistically,
and not with contrition… I don’t feel
contrite, but anyone’s feeling is…
irritating. Chorion. Cleavage.
A radial cleavage that is indeterminate.
A membrane bulges outward. You know what you
need? A little… bird…because… who
cares… you were born. Cord blood. The lines cross
into opposite directions into different
abandoned lots (intervillios space) with junk
and new grass and ducts and cloacae and oh
I’m straining for some proper code
or beneficent felicitation in the face
of hostile you who developed and were born.
But I can’t it, and that enrages me, your rage
(a knob-like thickening) enrages me,
so I weave this ugly potholder as occupational
distraction. Inner cell mass. Primitive knot.
Hey, the film is flapping, it’s making that
flapping sound and it’s time to change
the reel. I can’t. Seem to. Change. The reel.
Did you know that cornification is a form of cell death
exclusive to the eyes? And Phenoptosis affects
many species, from yeast to salmon?
Look, the G train floor is covered with pastel
starfish, but ONLY I CAN SEE THEM (my sweet
misfortune). They are laughing at me! Hey!
They are laughing at me! Laughing.
Heart development. Development of the urinary
and reproductive organs. Cubical or prismatic
cells. The word EMPTY scratched on the side
of the seat then X’d out with black marker:
an observation, not an objective correlative.
Everyone is (duh) a dark mushroom.
Blonde in green, everyone has earbuds –
and was once a tiny zygote with DARK IRISES
alone in a liquid place. Then there’s this forcing,
all these women SCREAMING and SWEATING:
they HEAVE and PUSH. Lines of hair on melon bellies.
Porous nipples. Eww. New nerve sensations. Life:
eww. Yolk sacs. Limb buds. First dryness and breath.
Smooth infants flail tiny limbs. Splanchnopleure.
Baby, each neonate is a locus of wild needs.
If I say I miss you I will feel sick so I won’t
say it but time elapses and hapless we (duh)
are folded into it: irises, elephants, earbuds,
nipples, starfish, Wharton’s jelly, everything.

3 thoughts on “Blastopore

  1. Love it! “Everyone is (duh) a dark mushroom.” HA! The way you use repetition seems very different than in other things you've written.

    Speaking of porous nipples, did you know there is such a thing as plastic nipple guards, to put over one's poor sore nipples during those painful first months of nursing? Yup. Like a little tupperware set. I don't know why I'm telling you except that it seemed relevant to this poem somehow, and I thought you might not know about them, since you've not had a child. I certainly hadn't, before.

    I liked the unglorification of birthing here in this poem, a lot.

    It's very odd to visit your blog and have it be so unfuschia! I'm discombobulated for a few seconds every time I visit.

  2. Should I re-fuschify it, you think? I'm loving all this white space. I've tried other background colors, but they look sort of tacky to me. At least, you know, the links are fuschia…

    I now very little about childbirth, it's true, although when I was a kid in Bolinas I used to enjoy reading the books sitting around the communes about natural childbirth: so freaky. I can't believe this is something that human beings are still compelled to do. Reproduce, I mean.

  3. No, no, keep the white, if you like it. It's sort of springy.

    Yes, it's interesting what you say about reproducing. Robert K. told me this whole notion one time about “transhumans” who reproduced by means other than sex. There were a few benefits, as he explained it. One was, sex could be used just for what it's intended: pleasure. And the other was, if humans didn't have offspring, we would feel much less territorial; hence there would be no more wars. I may be misconstruing it somewhat, but that's how I remember it. I vacillate about what I think about this.

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