Sleeping with the Dictionary

by Mullen, Harryette

  Sleeping

  with the

  Dictionary

  For, by Carol Snow

  Enola Gay, by Mark Levine

  Selected Poems, by Fanny Howe

  Sleeping with the Dictionary, by Harryette Mullen

  Commons, by Myung Mi Kim

  The Guns and Flags Project, by Geoffrey G. O’Brien

  Harryette Mullen

  Sleeping

  with the Dictionary

  University of California Press

  Berkeley and Los Angeles, California

  University of California Press, Ltd.

  London, England

  © 2002 by the Regents of the

  University of California

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-

  Publication Data

  Mullen, Harryette Romell.

  Sleeping with the dictionary /

  Harryette Mullen.

  p. cm.—(New California

  poetry; 4)

  ISBN 0-520-23142-2 (cloth: alk.

  paper).—ISBN 0-520-23143-0 (pbk.:

  alk. paper)

  1. Language and languages—Poetry.

  2. African Americans—Poetry.

  I. Title. II. Series.

  PS3563.U3954 S64 2002

  8II’.54—dc2I 2001048050

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  11 10 09 08 07 06 05 04 03 02

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (R 1997) (Permanence of Paper).

  Dark words

  more radiant

  than onyx!

  André Breton

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  All She Wrote

  The Anthropic Principle

  Any Lit

  Ask Aden

  Between

  Bilingual Instructions

  Black Nikes

  Blah-Blah

  Bleeding Hearts

  Bolsa Algodón

  Coals to Newcastle, Panama Hats from Ecuador

  Coo/Slur

  Daisy Pearl

  Denigration

  Dim Lady

  Dream Cycle

  Ectopia

  Elliptical

  European Folk Tale Variant

  Eurydice

  Exploring the Dark Content

  Fancy Cortex

  Free Radicals

  The Gene for Music

  Hitched to a Star

  Jinglejangle

  Junk Mail

  Kamasutra Sutra

  Kirstenography

  The Lunar Lutheran

  Mantra for a Classless Society, or Mr. Roget’s Neighborhood

  Music for Homemade Instruments

  Naked Statues

  Natural Anguish

  Once Ever After

  O, ’Tis William

  Outside Art

  Present Tense

  Quality of Life

  Resistance Is Fertile

  She Swam On from Sea to Shine

  Sleeping with the Dictionary

  Souvenir from Anywhere

  Suzuki Method

  Swift Tommy

  Ted Joans at the Café Bizarre

  Transients

  Variation on a Theme Park

  Way Opposite

  We Are Not Responsible

  Why You and I

  Wino Rhino

  Wipe That Simile Off Your Aphasia

  Xenophobic Nightmare in a Foreign Language

  X-ray Vision

  Zen Acorn

  Zombie Hat

  Acknowledgments

  I gratefully acknowledge the editors of the following publications and web projects, where these poems have previously appeared: African American Review, A Gathering of the Tribes, American Poet, Aufgabe, Best American Poetry, Black Renaissance, Bombay Gin, Booglite, Callaloo, Cave Canem Anthology, Colored Greens, Columbia Poetry Review, Combo, Crow, Dia Center for the Arts Poetry Broadside, Empty Set, Facture, Fence, Framework, Gare du Nord, Giant Steps, Hambone, In Celebration of the Muse, Konch, La Jornada Semanal, La Vitrina, Lipstick Eleven, Long News in the Short Century, Mirage, Otra Cancion: Seis Poetas Norteamericanos, Parnassus, Poetry in Motion, Role Call, Santa Monica Review, Southfields, The World, Tripwire, Womenhouse, and Xcp: Cross Cultural Poetics.

  My thanks to Enrique Chagoya for permission to use his work Line Essence Color on the cover. Thanks also to Judy Natal for the author photograph.

  Sleeping

  with the

  Dictionary

  All She Wrote

  Forgive me, I’m no good at this. I can’t write back. I never read your letter. I can’t say I got your note. I haven’t had the strength to open the envelope. The mail stacks up by the door. Your hand’s illegible. Your postcards were defaced. “Wash your wet hair”? Any document you meant to send has yet to reach me. The untied parcel service never delivered. I regret to say I’m unable to reply to your unexpressed desires. I didn’t get the book you sent. By the way, my computer was stolen. Now I’m unable to process words. I suffer from aphasia. I’ve just returned from Kenya and Korea. Didn’t you get a card from me yet? What can I tell you? I forgot what I was going to say. I still can’t find a pen that works and then I broke my pencil. You know how scarce paper is these days. I admit I haven’t been recycling. I never have time to read the Times. I’m out of shopping bags to put the old news in. I didn’t get to the market. I meant to clip the coupons. I haven’t read the mail yet. I can’t get out the door to work, so I called in sick. I went to bed with writer’s cramp. If I couldn’t get back to writing, I thought I’d catch up on my reading. Then Oprah came on with a fabulous author plugging her best-selling book.

  The Anthropic Principle

  The pope of cosmology addresses a convention. When he talks the whole atmosphere changes. He speaks through a computer. When he asks can you hear me, the whole audience says yes. It’s a science locked up in a philosophical debate. There are a few different theories. There could be many different realities. You might say ours exists because we do. You could take a few pounds of matter, heat it to an ungodly temperature, or the universe was a freak accident. There may be a limit to our arrogance, but one day the laws of physics will read like a detailed instruction manual. A plane that took off from its hub in my hometown just crashed in the President’s hometown. The news anchor says the pilot is among the dead. I was hoping for news of the President’s foreign affair with a diplomat’s wife. I felt a mystical connection to the number of confirmed dead whose names were not released. Like the time I was three handshakes from the President. Like when I thought I heard that humanitarians dropped a smart blond on the Chinese embassy. Like when the cable was severed and chairs fell from the sky because the pilot flew with rusty maps. What sane pilot would land in that severe rain with hard hail and gale-force wind. With no signal of distress. With no foghorns to warn the civilians, the pilot lost our moral compass in the bloody quagmire of collateral damage. One theory says it’s just a freak accident locked up in a philosophical debate. It’s like playing poker and all the cards are wild. Like the arcane analysis of a black box full of insinuations of error.

  Any Lit

  You are a ukulele beyond my microphone

  You are a Yukon beyond my Micronesia

  You are a union beyond my meiosis

  You are a unicycle beyond my migration

  You are a universe beyond my mitochondria

  You are a Eucharist beyond my Miles Davis

  You are a euphony beyond my myocardiogram

  You are a unicorn beyond my Minotaur

  You are a eureka beyond my maitai

  You are a
Yuletide beyond my minesweeper

  You are a euphemism beyond my myna bird

  You are a unit beyond my mileage

  You are a Yugoslavia beyond my mind’s eye

  You are a yoo-hoo beyond my minor key

  You are a Euripides beyond my mime troupe

  You are a Utah beyond my microcosm

  You are a Uranus beyond my Miami

  You are a youth beyond my mylar

  You are a euphoria beyond my myalgia

  You are a Ukrainian beyond my Maimonides

  You are a Euclid beyond my miter box

  You are a Univac beyond my minus sign

  You are a Eurydice beyond my maestro

  You are a eugenics beyond my Mayan

  You are a U-boat beyond my mind control

  You are a euthanasia beyond my miasma

  You are a urethra beyond my Mysore

  You are a Euterpe beyond my Mighty Sparrow

  You are a ubiquity beyond my minority

  You are a eunuch beyond my migraine

  You are a Eurodollar beyond my miserliness

  You are a urinal beyond my Midol

  You are a uselessness beyond my myopia

  Ask Aden

  for A.D.

  Are aardvarks anxious?

  Do dragons dream?

  Ever see an eager elephant?

  Newts are never nervous, are they?

  Between

  My ass acts bad

  Devil your ears Charybdis

  Good engagements deep blue sea

  Heaven my eyes your elbow

  Last night jobs hard place

  Now his legs hell

  Rock the lines me

  Scylla her breasts shinola

  Shit the sheets then

  Yesterday my thighs this morning

  You your toes today

  Bilingual Instructions

  Californians say No

  to bilingual instruction in schools

  Californians say No

  to bilingual instructions on ballots

  Californians say Yes

  to bilingual instructions on curbside waste receptacles:

  Coloque el recipiente con las flechas hacia la calle

  Place container with arrow facing street

  No ruede el recipiente con la tapa abierta

  Do not tilt or roll container with lid open

  Recortes de jardin solamente

  Yard clippings only

  Black Nikes

  We need quarters like King Tut needed a boat. A slave could row him to heaven from his crypt in Egypt full of loot. We’ve lived quietly among the stars, knowing money isn’t what matters. We only bring enough to tip the shuttle driver when we hitch a ride aboard a trailblazer of light. This comet could scour the planet. Make it sparkle like a fresh toilet swirling with blue. Or only come close enough to brush a few lost souls. Time is rotting as our bodies wait for now I lay me down to earth. Noiseless patient spiders paid with dirt when what we want is stardust. If nature abhors an expensive appliance, why does the planet suck ozone? This is a big-ticket item, a thickety ride. Please page our home and visit our sigh on the wide world’s ebb. Just point and cluck at our new persuasion shoes. We’re opening the gate that opens our containers for recycling. Time to throw down and take off on our launch. This flight will nail our proof of pudding. The thrill of victory is, we’re exiting earth. We ’re leaving all this dirt.

  Blah-Blah

  Ack-ack, aye-aye.

  Baa baa, Baba, Bambam, Bebe, Berber, Bibi, blah-blah, Bobo, bonbon,

  booboo, Bora Bora, Boutros Boutros, bye-bye.

  Caca, cancan, Cece, cha-cha, chichi, choo-choo, chop chop, chow chow, Coco, cocoa,

  come come, cuckoo.

  Dada, Dee Dee, Didi, dindin, dodo, doodoo, dumdum, Duran Duran.

  Fifi, fifty-fifty, foofoo, froufrou.

  Gaga, Gigi, glug-glug, go-go, goody-goody, googoo, grisgris.

  Haha, harhar, hear hear, heehee, hey hey, hip-hip, hoho, Hsing-Hsing, hubba-hubba, humhum.

  is is, It’sIts.

  JarJar, Jo Jo, juju.

  Kiki, knock knock, Koko, Kumkum.

  Lala, Lili, Ling-Ling looky-looky, Lulu.

  Mahi mahi, mama, Mau Mau, Mei-Mei, Mimi, Momo, murmur, my my.

  Na Na, No-no, now now.

  Oh-oh, oink oink.

  Pago Pago, Palau Palau, papa, pawpaw, peepee, Phen Fen, pooh-pooh, poopoo, pupu, putt-putt.

  Rah-rah, ReRe.

  Shih-Shih, Sing Sing, Sirhan Sirhan, Sen Sen, Sisi, so-so.

  Tata, taki-taki, talky-talky, Tam Tam, Tartar, teetee, Tintin, Tingi Tingi, tom-tom, toot toot, tsetse, tsk tsk, tutu, tumtum, tut tut.

  Van Van, veve, vroom-vroom.

  Wahwah, Walla Walla, weewee, win-win.

  Yadda yadda Yari Yari, yaya, ylang ylang, yo-yo, yuk-yuk, yum-yum.

  Zizi, ZsaZsa, Zouzou, Zuzu.

  Bleeding Hearts

  Crenshaw is a juicy melon. Don’t spit, and when you’re finished, wash your neck. Tonight we lead with bleeding hearts, sliced raw or scooped with a spoon. I’ll show my shank. I’d rend your cares with my shears. If I can’t scare cash from the ashen crew, this monkey wrench has scratch to back my business. This ramshackle stack of shotguns I’m holding in my scope. I’m beady-eyed as a bug. Slippery as a sardine. Salty as a kipper. You could rehash me for breakfast. Find my shrinking awe, or share your wink. I’ll get a rash wench. We’ll crash a shower of cranes. I’m making bird seed to stick in a hen’s craw. Where I live ’s a wren shack. Pull back. Show wreck. Black fade.

  Bolsa Algodón

  A sack lined with silver

  Coin purse full of change

  Able windbag puckered to blow kisses

  Plump white pillows on blue coverlet

  Some Dixie gents bowling

  In a giant football stadium

  Shake a sack lined with silver

  Coin purse full of change

  Coals to Newcastle, Panama Hats from Ecuador

  Watching television in Los Angeles. This scene performed in real time. In real life, a pretty picture walking and sitting still. It ’s still life with fried spam, lite poundcake, nondairy creme. It ’s death by chocolate. It ’s corporate warfare as we know it. I’m stuck on the fourth step. There’s no statue or stature of limitations. I’ll be emotionally disturbed for as long as it takes. You can give a man a rock or you can teach him to rock. Access your higher power. Fax back the map of your spiritual path. Take twenty drops tincture of worry wort. Who’s paying for this if you’re not covered? You’re too simple to be so difficult. Malicious postmodernism. Petroleum jelly donut dunked in elbow grease. You look better going than coming. You look like death eating microwave popcorn. Now that I live alone, I’m much less introspective. Now you sound more like yourself.

  Coo/Slur

  da red

  yell ow

  bro won t

  an orange you

  bay jaun

  pure people

  blew hue

  a gree gree in

  viol let

  purepeople

  be lack

  why it

  pee ink

  Daisy Pearl

  More than a woman’s name. Her traditional shape. Rapidly spread and rubbed with a wedge. Straight drunk with a crooked lick. A brief suck on time. Diminutive. Promptly popular still on the border. As one version of stamina went. A great show of suffering in order to arouse. There were sweet ones. Frozen ones and fruity ones. Her little resemblance to the original. Shake her one key part. Control her ice. Shake her poor stem. Her rim rubbed. Slice juice and pour control out with dusty salt. Or to taste if desired.

  Denigration

  Did we surprise our teachers who had niggling doubts about the picayune brains of small black children who reminded them of clean pickaninnies on a box of laundry soap? How muddy is the Mississippi compared to the third-longest river of the darkest continent? In the land of the Ibo, the Hausa, and the Yoruba, what
is the price per barrel of nigrescence? Though slaves, who were wealth, survived on niggardly provisions, should inheritors of wealth fault the poor enigma for lacking a dictionary? Does the mayor demand a recount of every bullet or does city hall simply neglect the black alderman’s district? If I disagree with your beliefs, do you chalk it up to my negligible powers of discrimination, supposing I’m just trifling and not worth considering? Does my niggling concern with trivial matters negate my ability to negotiate in good faith? Though Maroons, who were unruly Africans, not loose horses or lazy sailors, were called renegades in Spanish, will I turn any blacker if I renege on this deal?

  Dim Lady

  My honeybunch’s peepers are nothing like neon. Today’s special at Red Lobster is redder than her kisser. If Liquid Paper is white, her racks are institutional beige. If her mop were Slinkys, dishwater Slinkys would grow on her noggin. I have seen tablecloths in Shakey’s Pizza Parlors, red and white, but no such picnic colors do I see in her mug. And in some minty-fresh mouth-washes there is more sweetness than in the garlic breeze my main squeeze wheezes. I love to hear her rap, yet I’m aware that Muzak has a hipper beat. I don’t know any Marilyn Monroes. My ball and chain is plain from head to toe. And yet, by gosh, my scrumptious Twinkie has as much sex appeal for me as any lanky model or platinum movie idol who’s hyped beyond belief.

  Dream Cycle

  The ice cream truck

  goes by again

  It could snow me

  under this heat

  It could freeze my teeth

  crystallize a sigh

  and I could lick

  a quick dream

  when the ice cream truck

  goes lullaby again

  Ectopia

  A stout bomb wrapped with a bow. With wear, you tear. It’s true you sour or rust. Some of us were sure you’re in a rut. We bore your somber rub and storm. You were true, but you rust. On our tour out, we tore, we two. You were to trust in us, and we in you. Terribly, you tear. You tear us. You tell us you’re true. Are you sure? Most of you bow to the mob. Strut with worms, strew your woe. So store your tears, tout your worst. Be a brute, if you must. You tear us most terribly. To the tomb, we rue our rust and rot. You tear. You wear us out. You try your best, but we’re bust. You tear out of us. We tear from stem to stem. You trouble, you butter me most. You tear, but you tell us, trust us to suture you.