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Weise - The Book of Goodbyes

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Weise The Book of Goodbyes
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    The Book of Goodbyes
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WINNER OF THE 2013 JAMES LAUGHLIN AWARD

Winner of the 2013 Isabella Gardner Poetry Award

A Publishers Weekly Best Book of 2013

A NPR Best Book of 2013

A Coldfront Magazine Top 40 Poetry Book for 2013

These fierce, hip, heartbreaking love poems call out to a lover who cant be lived with or without. Theyre humorous, odd, and full of all the unreasonable truth of love. This book is the real thing. Publishers Weekly

Weises collection examines the daily life and consciousness of a speaker with a disability willing to confront all taboos associated with sex, intimacy, identity, gender, and love. - Coldfront Magazine

The Los Angeles Times described Jillian Weises debut poetry collection as a fearless dissection of the taboo and the hidden. In this second collection she forwards her bold, sexy poetics by chronicling an affair with a man she names Big Logos. These poems throw into question sex, the law, identity, sentiment, and power, shifting between lyric and narrative, hyper-realism and magical realism, fact and fiction.

Ive Been Waiting All Night

I reckon you were asleep with your girl
before the phone rang. Make something up.

Ive been waiting all night to tell you
about the couple in post-War France,

the woman fresh in her grave
and the man who didnt like his mistress dead,

no sir, and so exhumed her, to the dismay
of his wife, who had him arrested

for the stink he made.
She was reburied, returned to the dead.

After jail, he dug her up to fuck again.
Attached suction cups and crafted

a wig from a broom. You can go now.
Im more in the mood than youre used to.

Jillian Weisean above-the-knee amputee with a computerized prostheticidentifies as a cyborg and has discussed the identity in essays for the New York Times and Drunken Boat. Her books include The Amputees Guide to Sex (Soft Skull Press, 2007) and The Colony (Counterpoint/Soft Skull Press, 2010). She is an assistant professor at Clemson University, a contributing editor at the South Carolina Review, and co-director of the Annual Clemson Literary Festival.

Weise: author's other books


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for Josh Bell immanentizing the eschaton ONE UP LATE AND LIKEWISE It ne - photo 1
for Josh Bell immanentizing the eschaton ONE UP LATE AND LIKEWISE It - photo 2
for Josh Bell immanentizing the eschaton ONE UP LATE AND LIKEWISE It - photo 3
for Josh Bell, immanentizing the eschaton
ONE
UP LATE AND LIKEWISE
It never stopped raining when I was with him and we were wet and there were parties. He was from another decade. It was honest. With some you can never tell but with him I could. My decade let the POWs come home. What did your decade do? The thing about him is he keeps being the thing.

You could never count on him. I did. It never stopped raining and I could, it was honest, tell. Would you like to be in the same decade with me? Would you like to be caught dead with me?

THE UGLY LAW
Any person who is diseased, maimed, mutilated or can I continue reading this? Will it affect my psyche so that the next time Big Logos comes over I will not be there in the room? Instead I will be wandering a Chicago street in my dress with my parasol as a cane, on the verge of arrest, where arrest could mean stopping or to keep the mind fixed on a subject, where the subject is the diseased, maimed, mutilated self of 19th c. Chicago, the self in any way deformed so as to be unsightly and will I tell him to stop looking, tell him Im tired and Im about to be arrested for walking in public and I cant possibly climax when I am an improperperson who is not allowed in or on the streets,highways, thoroughfares or will he say were alone, no one is watching, there is your bedside table and there your mirror and who am I kidding? I wont tell him anything. There is no room in bed for this.

It does no good to bring things up from the 19th c. or from last week when the things have to do withhow do I say itwhat is the word I usually use? Last week I said it like this: Big Logos, a moth came out from hiding as soon as I had taken my leg off and the moth said, Ha little cripple. Now you cant get me with the broom. Then I laughed so he would know its okay to laugh. I do it like a joke. I do it like its nothing.

Why the cover-up? Why are the laws stacked with it and I never in high school heard of it? The maimed shall nottherein or thereon expose himself or herselfto public view under penalty of staring, pointing, whispers, aphorisms such as We are all disabled or What a pretty face you have or God gives and God takes away or one dollar for each offense. One dollar in 1881 is like $20 today. I wanted to compare it to something like dinner at Ruby Tuesday or a bra on sale at Victorias Secret, as if by comparing the amount to something I have bought, I would buy the penalty out. Then the penalty and all its horror would be gone instead of arrested, kept in mind, dwelled on when Big Logos comes over or forget him when I am in the supermarket or forget the supermarket when I am in front of twenty-four legs in a classroom or forget the classroom when I am on the couch watching TV: how will I not think of the woman in Chicago trying to hide her limp, her thoughts on her limp, trying not to bring it up, draw attention to it, or what will happen if she is caught by the constable? On the conviction of any person for a violationof this section, if it shall seem proper and just,the fine provided for may be suspended for 130 years until a person enters cripple in the search engine on Project Muse because a person has no cripple friends and has started to think cripples dont exist and never did and finds the law. Why have I posted the ordinance on the mirror and why have I traded the lube in the bedside table for a twenty dollar bill? Whats that supposed to do? Help the history slide in? Help me remember? Such a person will be detainedat the police station, where he shall be well in the company of criminals, concrete and moths and a small window to the forbidden street cared for,until he can be committed to the county poor house. I am not poor. I am not even unsightly.

What a pretty face I have Ive been told. Big Logos, will you attest to my sightliness? Is this all in the past? Why are you sleeping with me, anyway? Arent you afraid?

DECENT RECIPE FOR TILAPIA
Tell your back home friends it means nothing and you will drop him as soon as you have friends in the city. If you had more friends, you would not sleep with him. If not him, who would share your Tilapia? No beloved meal begins, Alone before a plate of fish... Find your market. Are you single? the man behind the counter asks.

What to think? For meals, you are inside a couple. From inside the couple, you have someone to call while standing in line. Does your girlfriend know? you must never ask. Instead, So many fish and which? The laws of attraction are this: There are no laws of attraction. A person likes a person. Both parties like each other and in each other enjoy being liked.

Baste the fish in lemon and butter. They say it takes time to meet people. Do you agree? Sleep with your friend. Disagree? Cut him off. Put it in the oven.

IVE BEEN WAITING ALL NIGHT
I reckon you were asleep with your girl before the phone rang.

Make something up. Ive been waiting all night to tell you about the couple in post-War France, the woman fresh in her grave and the man who didnt like his mistress dead, no sir, and so exhumed her, to the dismay of his wife, who had him arrested for the stink he made. She was reburied, returned to the dead. After jail, he dug her up to fuck again. Attached suction cups and crafted a wig from a broom. You can go now.

Im more in the mood than youre used to.

CAF LOOP
Shes had it easy, you know. I knew her from FSU, back before she was disabled. I mean she was disabled but she didnt write like it. Did she talk like it? Do you know what it is exactly? She used to wear these long dresses to cover it up. She had a poem in The Atlantic.

Yes, Ill take water. Me too. With a slice of lemon. It must be nice to have The Atlantic. Oh, shes had it easy all right. She should come out and state the disability.

She actually is very dishonest. I met her once at AWP. Tiny thing. Limps a little. I mean not really noticeable. What will you have? I cant decide.

How can she write like shes writing for the whole group? I mean really. Its kind of disgusting. Its kind of offensive. Its kind of a commodification of the subaltern identity. Should we have wine? Lets have something light. It makes you wonder how she lives with herself.

I wouldnt mind. I would commodify and run. Shes had it easy. I cant stand political poetry. She never writes about it critically. If it really concerns her, she should just write an article or something.

I heard shes not that smart. My friend was in class with her and he said actually shes not that smart. I believe it. I mean the kind of language she uses, so simple, elementary. My friend said she actually believes her poems have speakers. Oh, thats rich.

Im sorry but if the book is called amputee and youre an amputee then you are the speaker. So New Criticism. Really I dont like her work at all. I find it lacking.

HOW TO TREAT FLOWERS
Take the flowers directly home. Make no sloppy small talk with women biting into oranges on park benches.

Do not leave the flowers in the car, not even if you are the kind of guy who has a sun visor and dark-tinted windows. You must never leave the flowers in the car.

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