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One of us is invisible

Date post: 24-Mar-2016
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Sairica Rose has proved herself a consummate stylist and intrepid voyager through the dark underworlds: her first collection Subtitles for a Silent Movie brought her poet’s laurels in abundance. In her second book of poems she turns outward to the teeming world around her. She has spotted so much on the move, divined so many hidden portents, blown so many people’s cover, shot such action through a shattered lens and set down all the glinting shards indelibly. Here is a poet the world will be reading for a long time, who has captured its fevered image in a form more durable than brass. – From the Presentation by Christopher Hood.
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Transcript

Sairica Rose

One Of Us Is Invisible

Edited by Patrick Davenne

Tria Poetry, 5

Contents

Presentation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9Credits (or gratitude) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11

Bantam . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1819 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . באַנטאַםThe Modern Art of Loving . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20Uno . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22Carmine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23Terramoto . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26Starlite Xpress . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28Atropine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30Clearance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31Glacier . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32Mazurka . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34Ask Me Nothing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36Le Petit Mal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38Static . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40Carte Blanche . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41Drawing Dead . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44Sunday Rest . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46Slip . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48Theory of Relativity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50Ballet Mechanique . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52Incantata . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54Bahramdipity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56Black with Milk . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57

Tanto . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60Tanka of Half-Truths . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62Love in Another Room . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63Castling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65Prayer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66X . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68Iota . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70Grammar: The Third Conditional . . . . . . . . 72Strange Currency . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74Taschengeld . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76Re: wind . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78Kouta . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80The Caretaker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81Madame Lune . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84Letter bomb . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86Saga . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88

Presentation

Sairica Rose has proved herself a consummate stylist and intrepid voyager through the dark un-derworlds: her first collection Subtitles for a Silent Movie brought her poet's laurels in abundance. She has not rested on them for a moment.

In her second book of poems she turns outward, from a sunless sea of inner anguish to the teeming world around her. The effect is electrifying. Here is the same unflinching gaze and undimmed sensibil-ity but charged, just like her life, with cinematic vi-sion and performance energy –vivid, visual, simple often to the point of nakedness, a bravura punk set shot through with ironic, melancholy wit. She has a surreal knack of implying meaning by the words each side of it which lends a haunting quality to the simplest verses, mixing idiom and language with an insouciant authority which recalls Sylvia Plath, al-though to my mind Rose is stronger, more affirma-tive, the fighting equal of whatever she perceives.

And she has spotted so much on the move, di-vined so many hidden portents, blown so many people's cover, shot such action through a shat-tered lens and set down all the glinting shards in-delibly. Here is a poet the world will be reading for a long time, who has captured its fevered image in a form more durable than brass.

Christopher Hood, Author

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Credits (or gratitude)

Direction Lucia Lijtmaer

Peter WhiteheadMadigan Shrive

Edition Patrick Davenne

Art Direction Layil Umbralux

Art SupervisionOriol Malet

InstigatorGabrielle Penabaz

Construction Manager Jennifer Bajdan

SubtitlesBenjamin Mahoney

StuntmanAlbert Tauler

StuntwomanEmma Necus

Animal TrainersSarah Sparkles

Johnny Madison

Focus Pullers Faye Hadley

Aleix Vila Michonne Proulx

Aisha Prigann

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Workroom Supervisors Clotilde de Bellegarde

Jimena MarquezShreya Mukherjee

StylistsKarina Gusalova

Lamia AkarAmy Banger

Supervising CarpenterKiely Sweatt

Supervising PlastererRoger Roca

Special Effects Mar Nicolas

Robert GonzalezMarina Gallego

Alix Merry Andres Bartos

Director of Leaves & PetalsRebekah Wilson

Lighting ConsultantElena Terglane

Boom OperatorHelen Lewis

Clapper Loader Chris Hood

Casting Donald Backman

Grip Erik Eliason

Emily Johansson Emily Wilson

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SecurityMarkus Ruf

Nacho Villaro

Best BoyMoloko

Production TriaLlibres

Executive Production Michael, Linda Necus

Lilith & Dido

For 669---999 ... and our perfect freehand circle.

There is poetry as soon as we realize that we possess nothing.

John Cage

18

Bantam

Beneath the petals of your anger, I see you wet and smalland perfect…

threatenedby the insects and the walls of all those fingers.

And never will these falling feathers ever fly again,

but still they bring your thoughts to me when black carsleave without you.

Years and all their flowers since our silencelost its voice.

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באַנטאַם

אונטער די קרױנבלעטערפֿון דײַן רוגזה

זע איך דיך נאַסאון קלײן

און פֿולקום...

אין סכּנהפֿון די אינסעקטן

און די װענטפֿון די אַלע

פֿינגער.

און קײן מאָל נישט װעלןדי דאָזיקעפֿאַלנדיקע

פֿעדערןנאָך אַ מאָל פֿליִען,

אָבער פֿאָרטברענגען זײ

דײַנע מחשבֿות צו מירװען שװאַרצע אױטאָס

פֿאָרן אַװעק אָן דיר.

יאָרןאון אַלע זײערע

קװײטןזינט אונדזער שװײַגן

האָט אָנגעװױרן זײַן קול.

Yiddish translation by Janina Wurbs

20

The Modern Art of Loving

Find View Select all Go to

Highlight Copy Underline Maximize

Shift/Help

Space Cut Backspace Paste

21

File New Minimize Save changes

Abandon changes Repeat Rename Delete

(Drag to trash).

22

Uno

Unborn, Unwrong, Unreal,Unlong.

Unstill, Unsung,Unquiet,Undone.

Undead, Unburied,Unfinished,

Ungone.

23

Carmine

Carmine’s eyes are filled with ice, her smile is filled with wine,

she is standing over the candles of time and tonight she’s holding mine.

I flicker at the ribbons of her conversation and I smoke to set fire to her driest kisses,

for I’ve felt the wind through her bones and teeth, between her buildingsand her trees.

24

On the balcony, where her face is thrown, that bright, pale stone, she’s high in the sky of my mind...

and she leans out and calls for all she has lost.

25

26

Terramoto

When you left, the world turned in its hand... Clocks un-tocked to un-herded flocks

and wheels and tightly spun reels undid, while everything else did not.

Fistfuls of earth came down from the sky, where you were standing, right under the rain,

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trying on the suit they buried you in, and bursting into flames.

I took my heart from my pocket and lit it...

The moon left a ton of glass on the pavement, as the cars fell, scarring all the fallen trees.

And I turned and walked home without you... between the sunken ships and tangled weeds.

28

Starlite Xpress

Gucci, Smoochy, Muji, peachy, muddy honeymoon.

The great outdoors from indoors, never looked so good.Drive-bys, fly-bys, death by doll, sodacide and lime...

Willing, swilling, silent killers, tried and fried for tendercide.

I scream ICE CREAM on the side, roadkill needs survivors...

29

Hand revivers, breath revivers, for the driven and the drivers.

Itty-bitty cough drops, eye drops, I drop, thy thighs shalt never drop...

Clean me out and floss me, gloss me, park me in your starlite...

Where dirty rotten scoundrelshave never looked so good.


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