Letter Machine Editions
windows smeared in our own dust
if you want to come in here
you’ll have to go through us
from the section: Tallying Song
– Farid Matuk
Farid Matuk explores and displays a world and its territories occupied by us – the immigrants, consumers, politicians, beggars, thieves – the people.
“This is the age of information” he states, and is able to portray this world through numerous allusions of modern day figures, corporations, wars, disasters, literature and anything you can think of. Yet all these allusions are cast into the light of the absurd, the ridiculous sarcasm of the world and her ‘citizens’.
Through odd juxtapositions, like Huck tearing up his letter, refusing to believe… “the niggerfication of Jim” in the midst of Hurricane Katrina, and over the top language, “I only care that you love…testicles like oyster onions floating down the river,” Matuk humorously inhabits serious moments of satire and social commentary.
He embraces the impractical love/hate for celebrities and does not hesitate to use names, “say it with me – Thank God for Dolly Parton” and a poem titled, But Richard, Will You Show Me an Ethic of Freedom, that begins “Richard Pryor is a criminal / and comes from criminal people.”
The speaker is not merely spilling commentary but often becomes the people portrayed, “I am Moroccan today… the shoes / I will buy will raise me, incline me / as the whole of Europe is inclined…” He distinguishes nations and peoples, “look at our pairs of feet / in the basin, Joe / your European toe / my American slope” while simultaneously acknowledging unity in that we are all people and preposterous, “We all joined the astronaut corps and are waiting in line for the moon.” At once we are disjointed and unified.
“…there / is no world there is / a world if
you stand at all / you stand against it”
From the section: Dear Lengthening Day
– Farid Matuk
Prepare yourself for a lengthy travel: a journey full of dust and water and mirrors that don’t quite reflect, or hazy windows that refuse sunlight. Prepare to roam the earth.
First: find a ramp exit you can fly down like a dune that leads into a field or expanse, a far-flung stillness to hurl questions at. While crossing this expanse in search of water, breathe in the field, piss outside to affirm life, write something about spring coming through.
Stumbling upon the banks of a river, plant hydrangeas. Train a monkey to light matches then fling them into the moments, like disturbing little black pools of stagnant water – little sparks of the heart. Line squirrels in trees between the crosshairs of your finger and thumb then fire fire! Consider: “we learn to look at anything and recognize death.” Write something else about spring coming through. “Scrape wood to expose it to the air.”
Continue on in search of tall structures and people. Before you approach, roll around in dust, and then walk into the city. Lie about the things in your pockets. Play with people’s fears of thievery. “Beneath that: a sort of friendship. Beneath that: thievery.” Attempt to piss between dumpsters without being caught.
Come home. Wash your mouth out with soap and water. Read poetry to your dog then kiss her head and smell the spit over hair – “feel her jowl bags work over your hand like a jellyfish.” Be sure to start a pile of your toenail clippings on the coffee table; listen to the whispers of your naked toes. Paint your mother’s chest red to remind you of the red-breasted birds from another country, the places you’ve been. Consider you’ve kissed at least once in your dreams.
Imagine leaving once again. Traveling with your girlfriend. Fucking in the train-car bathroom – a chant of oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck
Realize that someday people will prepare a 9/11 reenactment.
Write something about spring coming through.
Reviewer: Shawn McDaniel is a first year MFA student in the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at Naropa University and one of Bombay Gin‘s Audio Archive Editors.
…a line from Anne Waldman’s poem “Sprawl,” which was inspired by Danielle Dutton’s novel S P R A W L. Both women will be in Boulder next week for Week 2 of the Summer Writing Program. Of course, Anne is already here and she read at the 38.2 Bombay Gin Release Party last Sunday.
There were current and former Naropa students, Lindsay Miller and Mark DuCharme.
And there were those writers from Colorado’s Front Range who are entirely new to Naropa.
There were others too: Katherine West and Chris Kondrich. The very helpful 2012-13 Bombay Gin board helped set up the event: Sally Smith, June Lucarotti, Brenna Lee, April Joseph, Eric Fischman, and Chris Shugrue.
If you attended the reading, thank you. If you bought the new issue or a back issue: thank you very much. We look forward to another exciting year.
We are pleased to announce the release party for our Front Range Writers & Artists issue of Bombay Gin. Celebrate our writing community and join us for an evening of readings and performances by some of the contributors of this issue. This event is free and open to the public, and we will be serving sweets and refreshing beverages.
Pick up a copy of Bombay Gin 38.2: Front Range Writers & Artists for $12. We’ll also be selling bundles of back issues from $5 to $10, as well as chapbooks from the Kavyayantra Press.
If you have any questions about the event, leave me a comment or send an email to firstname.lastname@example.org.
Can’t wait to see you there!
Bombay Gin 38.2: Front Range Writers & Artists is at the printer now.
We have been blog quiet for a bit too long, so we thought you needed a taste of what we’ve been up to. There is much more to come, so please stay tuned!