Bodies of Waste: (Garbage and Pornography Poetry)

By Gabriel Leif Bellman

BODIES OF WASTE is a poetry book that sets out to illuminate the mystery of garbage and the mysteriousness of pornography. Set out of the glare of societys mainstream headlights, these marginalized concepts flicker in the shadows, capturing our noses, our imagination, our disgust, and our excitement. Linking together Porn and Garbage, the poems in this book set to bring to our attention the very thing which we hope to avoid: ourselves. Cutting open the dichotomy of our values, dissecting the hypocrisy of gross, these poems of garbage and pornography, these bodies of waste, are only our own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 10, 2003
• ISBN: 9781462824687

Gabriel Leif Bellman

Gabriel Leif Bellman was born in Eugene, Oregon. He was awarded a Bachelors from USCs School of Cinematic Arts (95), a Masters from New York University (99), and a Juris Doctorate from U. C. Hastings ('05). He has been a high-school teacher; MTV producer; umbrella salesman; restaurant host; dishwasher; lumber feeder; assembly liner; slam poet; warehouse stacker; SOMA magazine correspondent; opera composer at Juilliard, groundskeeper; and Playboy assistant. He has worked construction (Mexico); lived abroad (Spain, Ireland, Holland); and devoted extensive time to traveling (Europe, North Africa, the United States, Middle East, and Caribbean). He directed a film while traveling with the circus in Ireland (Duffys Irish Circus 2005). He has worked with female prisoners in California. Currently, Mr. Bellman lives in San Francisco where he is an attorney. One of the underrated 3-point shooters of his generation, Mr. Bellman won the Los Angeles city hoops championship in 1995. His agent gladly fields calls about his NBA availability (he will only sign with a title contender).

Book preview

Copyright © 2003 by Gabriel Leif Bellman.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2003095683

ISBN:          Softcover                                1-4134-2590-9

                   Ebook                                    9781462824687

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

20742

Contents

INTRO

PROLOGUE

THE COMPOST AND THE CARNAL

1. LITTER PREVENTION

2. YARD WASTE

3. DISPOSABLE DIAPERS

4. TEXTILES

5. GLASS

6. BULK

7. MICE

8. PLASTICS

9. FOOD WASTE & OTHER ORGANICS

10. METAL

11. PAPER

THE COLLECTIVE

12.ASH

*BONUS 13. THE LAST POEM

For my no-limit-hold’em-homies:

Isaac, Brian, Josh, and Greg

on the river, dogs, on the river …

Also by the author:

novels:

An Apple in My Back

Sleeps Never That City

short stories:

Sum Swerve

Flatbush Fiction

Spoon Me

Coast Left Past

More Coast Left Past

poetry:

Therefore I think

INTRO

This book of poetry is the culmination of the work i did for three professors in two courses in the year of our lord nineteen hundred and ninety-seven. Those professors are R,S,T (robin, simone, tom) respectively, alphabetically, and thankfully. Without their energy, this would not exist, and a tree somewhere in rhode island would probably still be alive. So it goes …

In any case, I am thankful for their thoughts, deeds, and freedom in allowing me to find my muse.

A few words about how this book is set up. I have tried to contrast similar material from garbage and pornography by putting them next to each other and have also arranged and organized by theme. As with any trash heap, not everything fits nicely into the spot where it lays. I welcome this.

Ten of the twelve categories in the index (yard waste, glass, etc.) are taken from a brochure about the freshkills landfill. More specifically, they are from a graph which details the contents of the landfill. The other two, litter prevention and mice, seemed to be necessary additives. So, this book is a landfill of sorts. And also, I expect that my favorites will not be your favorites and i have done my best to scatter and salvage the best and the worst so that your journey into these pages will be like a trip to a junkyard or an adult shop, with no two people finding the same items titillating.

In as much as the very nature of writing is self-serving, i offer no apology for doing so much. I enjoyed indulging myself in this filth much like a kid in a mud fight.

Admittedly, a few more poems might have been cut, but this is the problem with garbage and pornography today. No two people agree on where or why the cuts need be made, and as this book shows, the waste stream continues to grow.

Why poetry?

To be quite honest, this comes from an inspirational encounter i had in Portland, Oregon as i read one of the only poems i have written in the last five years, entitled working at the umbrella shop. I read this poem at a cafe entitled la luna and was asked to join a national poetry slam competition, which i declined for i was on my way to new york. Thus, my first attempt at poetry had gone so well, i put it on the shelf of my mind and staved off the impulse until the time was right. This time is now.

I have had so much in my head that i needed to ejaculate some of it in order to route some energy into plugging up this nagging leak i have in my soul. It was sheer love that kept my up for the past 2 months zapping lightning through my fingers and ideas through my mind. Are we not here to try and make sense of everything, and do detectives not first check a person’s garbage before compiling a detailed sketch? Well, this is the garbage, the sludge, the sex, the shit, and as long as we have one thought and one breath, we may as well make use of this mess.

Cleanliness is next to godliness.

God made dirt, so dirt won’t hurt.

Thus, dirtiness is pacifism incarnate.

If dirt will not hurt, we all need to be dirtier.

Dirtiness is next to peaceliness.

my mind is always in the gutter

peace—gabriel leif bellman

p.s.

i have enclosed on the following pages the poem working at the umbrella shop as the rest of these eggs would never been attempted had there not been an initial chicken.

PROLOGUE

working at the umbrella shop

the escalator brings breasts

past the window

every breast

thigh

hair

eyes look into the window

who is that working

in the umbrella shop?

is this guaranteed

can I have this mailed home

and they talk

about fucking fucking fucking

when they get home

but when I take their money

they don’t talk about fucking anymore

it’s too obvious

a wave of neon umbrellas

hanging upside down

from

the ceiling

and they drop down

on me

not like rain

or sun

when umbrellas fall on you

it is like condoms strangling your cock

gravity winning the war against plastic

I wonder if they have anything between their legs

because I do

but they are women

and so

they do not

but

I think

there

is

a

nother

thing

which

they have

and

I

think

it

can make a brand new person and piss and juice and blood come out of it

and

I can’t make mine do that

manager tells me to reorder the nightlight

in the shape of a moon

this is just

an umbrella store

but

we have more stuff too

she tells me we have lots

of stuff

and she everynight lays stiff

for her husband

stiffhe is and becomes

stiff and limp and stiff again somenights

and we get more nightlights

more in the shape of a moon

and one in the shape of a cow

this is just an umbrella store

but

we have more stuff too

telephone rings and

I answer it hello can I help

I want to help

a little bit

not much

but

as long as I’m here

what else

is there to do

she asks me a question

help me find a coat a nightlight an umbrella

what kind of umbrella I ask her

with frogs

we don’t have umbrellas with frogs

and I hang up the phone

goddamn them

why don’t we have frog umbrellas

I feel like I let some bitch down

I feel like a belch

what do you do

there are drinks and talking around

everybody trying to impress the pussy

and the pussy

acting unimpressed

I’m a writer

I lie to her so she’ll fuck meI work in an umbrella shop

really

is what I do

I just say I’m a writer so I can press against her

and suck against her because they do not let men in umbrella shops do that

because what do they tell their friends after

when there are drinks and talking and the pussy acts unimpressed

did you go to college

I did

why do you work in an umbrella store

people always telling me I should go to New York

Los Angeles

be famous

act

dance

have people masturbate to your photographs

why do you work in an umbrella store

she asks me today

I want her to like me so I tell her the way the world is

the world is this way

I tell her

it is this way that people need to get by

with money

and the umbrella shop gives me money

having people masturbate to your photo doesn’t bring in any dough

she asks me if I ever will leave

don’t I want to change the world

don’t I want to make a difference

but

I think

secretly

with all the bullshit assholes that make a difference

with their anus words anus pictures anus film

that I am better off here in the umbrella shop

she left for New York a year ago

and she is modeling

she makes 3 thousand dollars an hour

when she works

which is what they call the sort of thing that she does

powder and paint and perfume and pantyhose and pussy and photographs

she does cocaine and escort service

and orgies

I make five bucks and hour

I work thirty hours a week

no place for orgies

I’m not an artist like her boyfriend

he makes the commercials about the kid with no legs

for public television

I’m a writer sometimes

I even wrote a poem about a kid with no legs

it was never on public television

it should have been on my mother’s refrigerator

but she is dead

and I’m an umbrella salesman

stick umbrellas canes fold-outs polka-dots black green red yellow purple ruffled and supermini and I sell all kinds of umbrellas

on my tombstone in people will stand in the rain and the

preacher

who

will not know me

will ask hey what did this guy do why should I tell God about him

and somebody will say what I did

what I do

I keep the world dry

___

THE COMPOST AND THE CARNAL

1. LITTER PREVENTION

A. Garbage Class/School

litter

so what are you studying?

pornography and garbage.

oh.

yeah.

so what are you studying?

garbage and pornography

wow

"no— oh."

oh.

what are you doing your graduate work in?

porn and trash

really? cool.

why is that cool.

because there’s so much bullshit out there

and?

and it’s nice to see someone who’s actually studying shit instead of studying crap and pretending it’ not shit.

do you want to go out with me?

no.

oh.

what do you want to do when you graduate?

cruise around cleaning up the world and having sex with everybody.

you mean you want to be a garbage man with a huge penis who can fly?

what?

nothing

oh. well, i just want to clean up the world.

do you want to be a giant vacuum cleaner with a huge penis that can fly?

what are you talking about?

nothing. i just thought maybe i was in love with you.

oh. i recycle.

yeah me too.

"do you want to go through the same exhausting and ultimately depressing

experience that you went through with your last mate?"

"i think so. i think i remember there was really great sex at the

beginning."

and then it turned into garbage…

did you say you recycled?

yeah.

what do you recycle?

my words, my thoughts, my actions. for example, if you’ll let me, i’ll tell you the same stuff i told the last person i had sex with, and then i’ll do the same stuff to you under the covers and then i’ll leave you the next morning and never talk to you again.

oh, good i thought you were one of those slimy ones that won’t leave

nope—screw me and i’m history.

let’s get it over with

story of my life

body

It was supposed to be a class

on garbage

which is

according to my friends

a class

on garbage

those of us who think

those of us in anger who

feel like the earth is being shit upon

we are all in here

a bunch of heads on a grapefruit tree

soured in the squid’s ink of our own society

Practical Theory

some want to talk

others want to talk about action

action does not exist

it is incinerated along with both sides

of the argument over what to do

with garbage

Okay, it makes sense to burn it.

No, then the ash is even worse.

Okay, so we’ll hide the ash.