Four Poems by Marina Blitshteyn

7/26/2019 Four Poems by Marina Blitshteyn

1/10

Axis, or atlas

I figure this blueprintcause or effectin this country they show you your symptoms

for insurance purposes you keep scorethe ticker on paperthe paper on point

my therapist lets memy therapisther old soviet affectthat flick of the wrist

I forget to offer to paya bagel for breakfastsay thank yousay yes I understandthese are the axes I travel onxerox the letter and staple it to the formsvillanelles, sestinas, sonnets

some elegantstudies of your kindcode the organic

clinicalseverity: 4major depressive disorder

no two signatures are alike, you want the original

I:

of the sitcom episodesyou resolve at the endmeaning flows back from enjambment, they teach this

understanding by design

I feel all the stops like a womanmade of her endsI wince at the pauseshalt at the breaks screechingthe slow swim of rubber


2/10

the laborious stretching of timetowards the thud

a single episodea whole episode

in howling anticipation

humor me:is this why Im single?

296.23

(hallucination is another thing.she called it imagination, she heard from the Americansthis was a good thing. until her uncleimagined a pearl in her mothersthroat, and charged at her to squeeze it out.only years later could she sing about it.the Americans called it confession.)

severe but withoutor inwardly featured

1.9.09

access to this

sings of myselfyou map the digressionsLONDON NEW YORK PARIS HOMEmy star is risingI am the same sign as my therapistmy therapist

300.01

put the paper in my disordered purseI journey

albeit disorderly(problem with authority)and dis-order the water for juice

panic-stricken at the thoughtof natural disasterI pack my purse tight:


3/10

laptop, 3 notebooks, a novel, a bottle,a checkbook, 8 pens of varying colors,2 pads and 4 chapsticks,my cell phone, my chargers, my license, my cards

my god, my god, my godmy therapist

II:

in this feature I star myselfthere is no otherlike freud you are everyone in your writing

006.00

no, this is damnation without relief

III:

over on this axis I dont believe youhardly believe myselfI spin to the toprevolving weightlesslift off the earthand its multiple meanings

(forwards and back)

talk of other thingsyour son the doctorstudies abroad

spin doctor, the herr, haira revolution about the mind

were orbiting ethicswhat was

what is

an imperative:denies

the tense deliveredgavel to pen, pensive


4/10

[she he it]

I spin and spincavorting with pleasantries

Ive made of myself[this]a state or a city

a sense of longing over the shouldermy head spun backinspires the turn

IV:

by virtue of its mass and speed,

a rotating particle commands its own pullit puts pressure on itself and pressure is drawn to it

psychosocial stressors:moving to nyc,breakup with along [sic]standing bf, firedfrom a job anda program

Severity:

see axis IIve almost forgotten my own meanscarrying these with me all daydistracting myself with a book and a hunger

one must always be in the middle of somethingfor existential psychology alone

Ive almost forgotten about the end

focused on the guy in a black apronexchanging those pleasantrieslike recyclable goodsearth-friendlyorganicclinicalelegant


5/10

studies about your kindin a wooden room, small public lamps

huddled and drawn for that paper

I study, I studyI spin

the red-color code of severityacute without warningenduring and cold

(products of uncertaintyproducts of chance)

that old sharp slap in the face by winter

the risk of the first steponto the street(onto the logical)

the chance of fallingthe uncertainty of ground

the impeccable timing in small decisionsand where to now

38-40

axes for axiomsI have the proofstashed away in a new gash in my purseI have the woundinsurance, securedI should deliver it stapledso I come affixedpapers disordered and creased

and I go roaming like a lost soul,an exhausted soul, toe-to-toe with my diagnosisbellevue or buffalodeliver the forms, xerox, xanax, phoneand vie for more potions poems and axioms

transform into a prozac pose, you know


6/10

gaze transfixed, the index finger stalledinto a permanent fixture like it doesnt exist

and if somebody blinks think twicebefore turning the chin and flicking the wrist

everythings so certain its boringeverything fixed to its proper formvillanelles, sestinas, sonnets

my hunger defined to a list


7/10

anxiety dream

do you love me?

yes i love you.

now?

yes now.

and now?

now too.

why?

because you asked.

and if i didn't?

i wouldn't.


8/10

castles

i tied a string to the mooncalled it a castlecalled it a noose

by then it was noon and palecalled it marblecalled him a musewent to sail awaycalled a canoea beautiful shippulled myself up by the ropebut then it brokeleft myself with a bruisea rusehow curious


9/10

a heaven, a god

they want neatrows of limbs,i can't give them

what i don't have,one hip perchedover the otherfrom birth--they need linesperpendicular tofull trees, in salutelike soldiers of someholy cause--i can'tspeak for leaves but iimagine a heaven

in chaos, a kindermove than death, wherelimits are metwith lambs, a lampwith lemons--therean eden growspunchier with each whiff--who do we belong toto prefer it?


10/10

Marina Blitshteynis the author of 4 published or forthcoming chapbooks, mostrecently Nothing Personalfrom Bone Bouquet Books, and $kill$from dancing girl press.Work has been featured inApogee, Sixth Finch, 1913, No, Dear Magazine, The BerkeleyPoetry Review, and CutBank. She works as an adjunct instructor of composition andliterature.

Brief Statement: The poemAxis, or Atlaswas my first major poem written in New York Cityat the bottom of a deep depression in 2008. I briefly saw a psychiatrist who gave me a bunchof diagnoses on her office letterhead so I spent the rest of the day wandering around trying tounderstand myself through them.

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Four Poems by Marina Blitshteyn