Oskar Davico......is serbian
Ognjen Smiljanic edits Tooth from California. He previously served as editorial assistant for Sulfur.
Turned on the stomach of the underground, first I will lick
for a long time
with my raspy tongue
that lollipop-vagina of death.
There I will disappear like bread dough
thrown into a hearth,
rounder than the skirt with which she covers
her invisible loving she-thing.
In the deep and empty belly of that skeletal spectre
I will forget my wide open eye, like a green
pinned onto her naked breast.
My eye-prosthesis she lost not long ago
in the high grasses in which we,
haven?t I mentioned?,
screwed. No one would even think that last summer
Death and I made love.
Not even Imagination.
from Detimed Time
Disturbed, unsynchronized, all his three eyes fluttered.
Why never at once? Couldn?t they
simultaneously watch one and the same landscape, to
collectively and brotherly
love the same arrival of silence at sunset?
one eye?s perception of things late in regards to the second,
arriving too early to bring its impulse into
the cerebral cortex?
Does each sight in that three-room belvedere
have to first undress in order to clothe its snows
perceived by the other two eyes? Are these events less
to understand, given the fact that no one, not even myself,
could manage to be
at the same time in all three rooms, not now, or any other time?
from The Slaughterhouse Flutters in Us
Deep beneath the layers of unsleep, in the core of reality,
rises a long-buried remembrance of slaughterhouses
that offered cut pieces of distinctly trembling, scared
meat, which even posthumously remained the way it was
the minute before slaughter,
the way it will always be even when it is roasted, cooked
or fried, tossed into a new, similarly shitty beautiful
life. What kind of strength will that animal protein
give to man?
Purchased on the corner near the same slaughterhouse,
will make the man, whether a meat buyer or a butcher
in a slaughterhouse,