Louise Bourgeois / Peter Orlovsky / Remembrance


Valery Oisteanu


Louise Bourgeois (1912-2010)

Sculptures are almost melting, crying of loneliness
Aggressive ecstasy and malicious joy
Gigantic spiders stand still, in a frozen position
The spider-mother had passed into infinity
Mirrors reflecting other mirrors, as a portal
The old doors that were never opened
Her octagonal room a sequence of doors
Move slowly, almost invisible, closing opening
Two dark limbs are chopped off
And lay there on a slab of dark granite
The grand dame of Confessional art
With the dark latex phallus under her arm
Talks to Freud and Lacan, May 31, 2010
Something dark and uneasy about her
Her head appears like a surreal house
No eyes but windows, no face but steps
A garden of phalluses grows under her
She will harvest them on a full moon
Eccentric, sadistic, abstract-geometric

Totemic, Iconic, Ironic
All of that and much more
The Louise we knew, will not return.


Peter Orlovsky (July 8, 1933 — May 30, 2010)

That was your face laughing wild
As if it could trick madness
At the entrance to the St. Marks Church
Peter is confessing about pills
Talking to Ira Cohen and me
Lithium and anti-depressant are mentioned
Andy Warhol & Peter's "The Couch"
Allen Ginsber's trashed kitchen, cops called in
The existential gray ponytail is revealed
While the wind blows his hat off in the East Yard
Deep voice, drinking with your eyes shut
Lamenting his brother, his lover, his own mind
Insanity follows him to Creedmoor mental ward
But at that fragile morning of last day of May
A sunflower blossomed and starts bleeding petals
Alone in death, alone and still, alone and naked
Folded arms, closed lips, heart full of unwritten poems
Swimming up the stream of eternity
Shivering up the glittering dream.