Susan Osterman: Literary Biography & Links
80's Poem Or Relief Is Just A Poem Away
Angels!!! - What Is Life But A Bed Of Flowers
Is Peroxide Proper For An Amputated Cat's Shoulder Skin?
Susan Osterman, a NYC-based poet and performance poet has written 3
collections of poetry: Silence and Slow Time, Strip Mining, and A Head
of Her Time.
Osterman has been widely published in the U.S.A. and Europe (150 poems in
various literary magazines and anthologies, including The Village Voice,
Downtown, Cover Arts New York, and Colorado North Review),
and translated into Russian (Gnosis Bilingual Anthology).
She has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her work is being taught in English
courses in one New York State High School for advanced English and writing
students, and in several CUNY community college courses.
Additional samples of her poetry may be found on the following websites:
http://www.sosterman.blogspot.com
http://hometown.aol.com/dunalorne
http://www.libertyhillpoetry.org/Osterman.htm
Recent publications include:
I MAELSTROM, THE POETRY MOTEL, LIBERTY HILL PRESS, COMMON GROUND, THE INDIANA
REVIEW, THE CLARK STREET REVIEW,
TAJ MAHAL REVIEW and NOMAD'S CHOIR.
(i think the water is warmer whenever i'm not drowning.)
cat is doo-wap
radio is frisky and tame
light shines
all sleep
the light life of love
psychotherapy
the parable of the poet
the grasslands of greenland genius
the inspired the uninspired
my love for you
my free floating love for humanity
love
coercion
twelve step programs
existence for posterity
my wish for my doo-wap cat
my unfounded principality
my wish you loved me
my stolen typewriters
o my stolen typewriters
my love of life
your life of love
play play
play with doo-wap
my mother's wish that the ten commandments
were still in effect
her wish at 75
that people still cared
the ten commandments
doo-wap
do the right thing
the cat's whiskers
doo-wap
pleasure
health
wealth
sobriety as a religion
try health this time
give up give up give up ½
patch the wealthy
love poverty
my editor my editor is evaporating
my handsome-ever-handsome poplograghic editor (sic)
john wesley harding
numerous assorted fools
john wesley harding & disciples
outlaws lovers crooks
typewriter broken tough
the lovely person you aren't
the life of reilly
"That time of year thou mayest in me behold"
and the doo-wap cat i once was
and still am
hopping in pleasure
lyrically wound and tightly unwrapped
voice of every soul
distant runner
on time's remote shore
insecurity and drugs
bohemian?
what's bohemian?
insecurity and mice and doo-wap cats
the cat's jumping is perfect doo-wap!
waving wheatfields
drugs & sweet wine
twelve-step programs
existence for posterity
i have gone around in tight skirts
i use my sexuality as a smoking gun
i have no choice
it uses itself against me
i want life easy i want dash & dash & --
to love me
the left margin in contact with the right: no space
the answering machine is purring cat doo-wap½
the answering machine is purring cat doo-wap ½
each soul knelt to pray
a city of knees
god's ego is too big
nada
zilch
rien
cat doo-wop the beat of life,
stay on top of the water
don't drown
stay doo-wap stay sexy stay young
the 80 year old
stays flexible & thinks
the 40 year old is "just beginning"
the 40 year old thinks the 20 year old
a child
i think the water is warmer whenever I'm not drowning
i think cat is doo-wap and doo-wap is 50s
life is doo-wap
the song of the spheres is essential and real
i definitely defer to cats
& doo-wap music
they bop; they keep me alive
doo-wap bop bop bop
how wonderful it is to fly
how wonderful to come down to earth
how wonderful to live
i think every song enters god's ear
and reverberates into blind sunlight
I
Ophelia is floating on water under stars
slowly like a lily
a lily in veils and flowers
and the sounds of the kill in the distance
sad mad Ophelia has lain on water
since the beginning of time
a white phantom on a black sea
Sweet Ophelia has been kissed
on her breasts
reeds stoop to kiss her
II
Ophelia is snowywhite
a goddess carried off by the sea!
the winds whispered to you of freedom
and you flung yourself into the sea
A breath twisted your golden hair
with rumors, with dreams
you listened to the winds and the sea
the trees and the nights captured you
the clamor of mad seas
broke your child's heart, too human, too soft
the clamor of a handsome madman prince
who sat mutely at your knee
breaking your heart
you melted the prince
snow to a fire
and your visions were wordless
and terror blinded your blue eyes
III
and the poet says that in starlight
you search for the flowers you'd gathered
and that he sees a great white lily
on the black water
in long veils
in white flowers
O lady of lilies
O lady of dreams
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For William Carlos Williams
i
have decided
as the
daisies grow
to aim my eyes
skyward
towards emptiness
where no one sits
watching us.
An old bearded
dozing man on the
uptown IRT
reminded me of God:
i looked at him
(for a sign)
as i disembarked
but his eyes remained closed.
he seemed
as a flower
silently being
a part of nothingness.
Maybe God
sits in subways these days
with his eyes closed
like a baby
wise noble
with too many years
to watch us anymore
in subway cars.
Pearl Harbor
may have disinterested him
as well as
my subway ride
or hippies becoming yuppies
because he may already have
been bored by
Eve's transgression
or Hitler's
By Vietnam
he had surely given up.
he probably dozes
through all the
Warhol flicks too.
he may have no
sense of humor left
no mercy no pity
for us any longer.
yet he still
makes white daisies &
blue feathered peacocks
so he can't be
totally asleep
or maybe he does
that in his sleep
perhaps they are
His dreams...
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the neighbors are dressed in leopardskin
they are partying
laughing
married happily dieting
working
enjoying life
the neighbors
look thru their blinds
blinded with joy
only gossip to me
the neighbors
are crying in their beer
but i dont see this
i see the plump red apple
the parties the marriages the diets
hunky-dory plans
the neighbors
are fucking the right man/woman
the neighbors
are addressing themselves to reality
as i sit and weave threads of fiction
to drape threadbare reality
the neighbors
may not write poetry
but still they survive
babies marrying dieting
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today is halloween
aggressive children
are hounding me for candy
painfully reminding me
that i'm an adult
halloween and i've
had a fight with
my boyfriend and
am looking for a way
to get away from him
halloween and old
lechers on the street
mutter trick or treat
through their teeth
men try to pick me up
by asking if i've got
candy in my bag---
my bag full of books
finally i meet a sister
who buys cake and chocolate
ice cream and we discuss
how fucked up men are
and she says to keep
on writing feminist poetry
and don't listen to men
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I
lack of
peripheral vision
sent
hoards of
butterflies
flying
into my face
II
creative people
carry a strong burden
lifting ideas
African violets
grow this way
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for Sara Lee Brownies
Sara Lee with deep brown eyes
nobody doesn't like you
i met you under greygrey skies
'twas then i had to bite you
I saw you in your cardboard dress
and when i took it off
your creamy brown skin was a mess
man i had to laugh
i didn't stop to talk to you
i took you in my mouth
then i was no longer blue
together we flew south
you'll never know my Sara dear
what a fine lover you've been
you've assuaged my every fear
including being lean
as we lie so happy there
i bite into your walnuts
i think about our sweet affair
and wonder if we're all nuts.
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80's POEM OR RELIEF IS JUST
A POEM AWAY
swallow this
injection of reality
you barbarian
poems be important
despite their market
spiritual perfections
never sold well
only a god sells
who makes reparations
for everything
heaven, hell & orgasm
are all that matters
& all that ever will
period
this poetry writing
man
why do they do they
it's devil-inspired
i say, says jesus lady
Sylvia Plath made
love wid ole Lucifer
that's why she lost
her hubby
Ted Hughes
(& her life, of course)
a woman's place
is having babies
And, goddamit, man
I'm trying to write
The Great Amer. poem
women working
women praying
women working
women praying
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pontiff warns
ladies
to beware
women's lib
diverts them
from their
main duty
belch babies
Spawn!
the main job
is to spread your
legs, take the schmuck
in, forget your diaphragm,
and, chucking, pop
one out, one more
poor indian
sans tribe...
ANGELS!!!---WHAT IS
LIFE BUT A BED OF FLOWERS
What is life but a bed of flowers?
Lie down: angels will protect you
Smell the coffee; smell the flowers
You will awake whenever you wish to
Violins will give you sweet dreams
Dainty maidens will dance around you
Forming a daisy chain
Whilst you slumber
Do you wish a bowl of cherries?
Whatever you imagine will be yours
Handsome lads and comely maids-in-waiting
Even love on a platter
Happy, O Happy
we will all be
in the home of the rave
and the bourgeoisie
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for my Aunt Dorothy
a simple palm tree
palm tree wine and honey
declaring its intentions
to the broad tolerant
sun
the sun is constant
warm and strong
it can hold you
in its arms
a universal, perhaps agnostic lover
just as it holds the
proud spreading green fan
we call a palm tree
its trunk gathered in
organic gray suit
of horizontal
concentric circles
listen, it whispers
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(For Grendel)
on a window
a cat sits perched
innocent, neutered
afraid of dogs
and torture
by those
creatures with
2 legs
and strong arms
cats are lucky
because they don't
fall in love
or develop migraines
or worship a deity
cats are lucky
because they eat
everyday
--- house pets, that is ---
without ever lifting a paw
they have no hassles
over unemployment checks
or bosses
they are independently fluffy
cats are lucky
because they move fast
and hide in
infinitely small spaces
and crawl and hiss
with indignation
when their territory
is invaded
cats are lucky
because if you
fall in love with them
they are never the wiser
perhaps wiser than we think
they have 9 lives
maybe improving as each one
slides by
quietly and furrily
they know the saying
"it's a dog's life"
and act accordingly
i.e., like cats
which is, after all,
all one can expect of a
cat....
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IS PEROXIDE
PROPER FOR AN AMPUTATED CAT'S SHOULDER SKIN?
is hydrogen peroxide proper
on a cat's shoulder?
is a little shown skin
on the skin line of an amputation
a problem or can it
abide all innocence
still, still intact
w/ or w/o cancer, Denise
you crawl a little bit stranger now
down the hallways of yr rather
limited experience
not limited in love
but in the varieties of human twisted motives
our limited visions & carnage
I took you in catbox to animal
hospital w/ yr 4 legs
& you returned with 3
how can you ever trust me again?
next time I put you in catbox
you urinate: yellow fear
with your large green eyes
the beauty and sweetness
nature endowed you with
the mellow and cool love outlook
for us 2-leggers
Denise, you are brave
you are jumping
into brave new spaces
in people's hearts
all the time
3 days after your right arm came off
you are jumping onto the sofa
jumping 3-legged into brave new spaces in my heart
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For Arthur Rimbaud
J'ai embrassé l'aube d'été. (I have held the summer dawn in my arms.) From "Aube"
by A. Rimbaud
.
Arthur who loved Paul Verlaine as a
schoolboy, a tiger, a mentor
their orgasms were illegal
Whose young old heart
exhilarated Verlaine's drunken rhymes
Arthur so gifted with life
born anew each moment
caressing the blue nights of summer
with his naked head and naked feet
seeing the blue in nature
the soft sound of the gift of genius
rattling through his lice-ridden hair
arthur who got drunk
and punctuated the rhymers of no talent
with line-ending syllable "merde!"
arthur whose only money
was the rain from blue skies
whose only food was starvation
whose only car was his long legs
whose only shelter was the rain
on his unarmed head
arthur now more myth
than man
we have only your words
but that is enough
my brother of another universe
NOTE: THIS SECTION IS STILL UNDER CONSTRUCTION: CHECK BACK SOON FOR MORE POEMS BY SUSAN OSTERMAN!
Translations/Interpretations By Susan Osterman