{"id":37000,"date":"2011-05-02T23:04:00","date_gmt":"2011-05-02T23:04:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/?p=37000"},"modified":"2011-05-02T23:08:29","modified_gmt":"2011-05-02T23:08:29","slug":"ten-poems-gabriele-labanauskaite","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/ten-poems-gabriele-labanauskaite\/","title":{"rendered":"Ten Poems"},"content":{"rendered":"

By Gabriele Labanauskaite.<\/p>\n

The Postcard To Alaska<\/strong><\/p>\n

I will inscribe your name on a postcard and send it to
\nAlaska.
\nLet the Eskimos peck at each letter through a magnifying
\nglass:<\/em><\/p>\n

rumpled breast
\nin a carton box –
\nvector trails
\nshowing nowhere –
\ncrumbs alone
\nand caramel wrappers \u2013
\nwhere candies once were<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

At The Copenhagen Airport<\/strong><\/p>\n

At the Copenhagen airport
\nA girl vomits in a garbage can<\/p>\n

Then
\nShe rises above
\nThe clouds
\nLeaving behind<\/p>\n

The Milky Way \u2013
\nIt stretches the stairs of insomnia
\nIn spheres<\/p>\n

Frees itself from<\/p>\n

The chiming
\nHand rest<\/p>\n

We’re already regressing backwards,
\n                              darling,
\nSoon already \u2013
\nWe’ll meet
\n\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026..<\/p>\n

Soon already \u2013
\nWe’ll meet<\/p>\n

The chiming
\nHand rest<\/p>\n

In spheres<\/p>\n

        Falling down
\n        Towards the clouds
\n        Towards The Milky Way<\/p>\n

        Where at the Copenhagen airport
\n        Cactuses blossom
\n        In the girl’s mouth<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Film Scenes<\/strong><\/p>\n

Sometimes film scenes seem sharper than
\nlife’s
\nchili
\nin them skyscrapers explode
\nand people, even after a huge catastrophe occurs
\nkiss warmly and passionately,
\nnot counting
\ntheir last seconds of oxygen.<\/p>\n

Though sometimes \u2013
\nand you’re not a more ordinary
\nhero \u2013
\nyou leave the house having not turned off the gas,
\nnot having greeted your neighbor
\nand\u2026
\nloo \u2013
\nyour film runs out.<\/p>\n

Before the setting sun sets you still want to
\ndirect the scenes, to cut out the most disillusioned,
\nyet
\nsomeone over there, by the television
\nreally likes your
\nsobbing\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The Real Mafia<\/strong><\/p>\n

The real mafia meets in
\n                                    churches-
\nas the organ plays
\n                                    they kiss
\nfingers ringed with gold<\/p>\n

Real killers like
\n                                    cats,
\nsoft furs<\/p>\n

and a tear of blood<\/p>\n

streaming down<\/p>\n

                                    a sleeve.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

                                                                        [The realest ones
\n                                                                        don’t like reality].<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Freud’s Dream<\/strong><\/p>\n

In the jungle never were days barren of touching
\npanthers, cobras, tigers \u2013
\ntreading licking in golden frames.<\/p>\n

A thick nectar pours from the depths of intoxication
\nwith butterflies, dragons from the east it flies
\naway\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

During your childhood you met many fantastic beasts
\nLynx rubbed against your legs,
\nSnakes whispered sweet little words,
\nAdorned in scorpion beads.<\/p>\n

During adolescence you began to shun your acquaintances
\nAnd learned to sleep with a loaded weapon under your pillow
\nAll of your beloved having turned into
\nMonkeys bounding in wilderness.<\/p>\n

When you became an adult, when it receded like a shadow
\nA shadow, having grown still,
\nYou do not see dreams at all and sleep with a weapon
\nPlaced at the end of your bed.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I Am Electrified<\/strong><\/p>\n

I am electrified \u2013
\nAll of the earth’s volts
\nPenetrate me
\nWrap around my neck,
\nDot my back
\nWith radiant stitches.<\/p>\n

I am electrified \u2013
\nWith neon lights
\nThe sparkle of skyscrapers
\nAirplanes twinkling
\nThe flutter
\nFrom your computer.<\/p>\n

I am electrified \u2013
\nIn micro schemes I count
\nSunsets and sunrises,
\nWhich occur all at once
\nWhen the mechanized watches have stopped \u2013
\nI am electrified.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Cars – My Cold Flowers<\/strong><\/p>\n

Cars \u2013 my cold flowers
\nin an engine hard
\nflower pots
\ncaked
\nwith fuel dust.<\/p>\n

Cars \u2013 my cold flowers
\nin factories \u2013
\nlike dolls
\nin a shop window
\nthey understand everything, but don’t know how
\nto talk.<\/p>\n

Cars \u2013 cold, still-budded flowers \u2013
\nAmong the valves, gears and keys
\nI am
\nthe fairy
\nof disorderly internal mechanisms
\nwho can’t be saved
\nby the metal panacea.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Grass Stairs<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Grass stairs mute step-echoes
\nFor expectant ears each step is
\n              in
\n                      au
\n                              dib
\n                                       le<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Piranhas<\/strong><\/p>\n

I live in an aquarium
\nAmong the other piranhas<\/p>\n

I learn to swim
\nTo feel the small fish
\nTo swim up near to him
\nAnd to astonish<\/p>\n

I live and live and live
\nAmong sharp corals and reefs
\nThe glass walls are there
\nOnly to prevent the sleep<\/p>\n

Because\u2026
\nwhen you break through
\n                              to the other side of the mirror<\/p>\n

When you break through to the other side of the mirror<\/em><\/p>\n

You will see another aquarium<\/p>\n

Where piranha devours piranha
\nWhere piranha devours piranha
\nWhere piranha devours piranha<\/p>\n

Until
\nThere is nothing but water
\nIn the aquarium<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pure Love<\/strong> or Song Of The Liar<\/strong><\/p>\n

I wear a fluttering skirt of mourning
\nThrough three halls
\nWhere the corpses of past loves
\n                Are lain<\/p>\n

Although\u2026
\nI shared with them
\nPears apples and plums
\nInvariable constants
\nX and Y
\nEquations of zero sums<\/em>
\nBut still\u2026
\nI wouldn’t sacrifice one salty
\nNor place flowers withered long ago
\nFor fragrant reviving a single soul. <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Translated by Ada Valaitis and Kenneth Smallwood<\/em><\/p>\n

A pdf of Gabriele’s poetry is available for download<\/a>.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"tai-kas-galetu-buti-avaspo\"<\/a>
\nABOUT THE AUTHOR<\/strong>
\nGabriele Labanauskaite<\/strong> (Lithuania, 1980) is a poet, prose-writer, playwright and book critic. She has a masters degree from Vilnius University in the Theory and History of Literature and studied at Jyvaskyla University (Finland) and Parma University (Italy). She’s currently working on a PhD about the narrative construction of stage plays and teaches history and theory of playwriting at the Lithuanian Music and Theatre Academy in Vilnius. In 2008 she completed the script writer’s course at the New York Gotham Writers Workshop. Gabriele’s work has been published in cultural newspapers and literature almanacks (‘Baltija’, ‘\u00c5\u00bdiemos \u00c5\u00beod\u00c5\u00beiai’) since 1992. In 2003 she started writing stage plays, of which The One that Hurts the Most<\/em>, Circus<\/em> and In-fucked<\/em> won awards at the National Lithuanian Plays Contest and were staged in Finland, Sweden and the UK.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\"tai-kas-galetu-buti-avaspo\"<\/a>A thick nectar pours from the depths of intoxication
\nwith butterflies, dragons from the east it flies
\naway\u2026<\/p>\n

During your childhood you met many fantastic beasts
\nLynx rubbed against your legs,
\nSnakes whispered sweet little words,
\nAdorned in scorpion beads.<\/p>\n

During adolescence you began to shun your acquaintances
\nAnd learned to sleep with a loaded weapon under your pillow
\nAll of your beloved having turned into
\nMonkeys bounding in wilderness…<\/p>\n

By Gabriele Labanauskaite<\/strong>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":119,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[484,7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-37000","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-maintenant","category-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37000","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/119"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=37000"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37000\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=37000"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=37000"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=37000"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}