Rosa Vertov

“Who, if I cried out, would hear me among
the angels?"

I know the answer:
no one.

Tell me: from where does love come?
An angel is sitting on my face. To whom can I run?

Take me in your arms, death,
I'm so scared;
do anything to me that will make me safe
while I kick my heels and shout out in total fear,
while we hurtle through your crags
to where it's blacker:
Orpheus' head eaten by rats,
what's left of the world scatters,
in the Lethe the poet's hairs,
below where there's no ground, down
into your hole,
because you want me to eat your sperm.
Death. I know.

"Every angel is terrifying."

Because of this, because I have met death,
I must keep my death in me,
gently,
and yet go on living.
Because of this, because I have met my death,
I give myself birth.

Remember that Persephone
raped by Hades
then by him brought
into the Kingdom of Death
there gave birth
to Dionysius.

You were the terrorized child,
Mother,
Now be no more.
Requiat in pacem.

Tell me: from where does love come?

"Emerging at last from violent insight
"Sing out in jubilation and in praise."
to the angels who terrified away the night.
Let not one string
of my forever-child's heart and cunt fail to sing.
Open up this body half in the realm of life, half in death
and give breathe.

For to breathe is always to pray.

You language where language goes away.

You were the terrorized child,
Mother,
Be no more.
Requiat in pacem.

Requiem.
For it was you I loved.”
― Kathy Acker

“GINGER. He and I established the most wonderful rapport. I think he's infatuated with me; he kept grabbing my ass and telling me how different I am. I think he senses the rebel in me. I've always been in rebellion ever since I was a kid. I remember how whenever my father's tell me to pick my toys up I'd stamp my foot and say "No" twice before picking them up. Oh, I was a mean one. My latest rebellion is my childhood religion; I've just rebelled against that. I used to be High Episcopalian.
BONGI. What're you now?
GINGER. Low Epicsopalian.”
― Valerie Solanas, Up Your Ass or From the Cradle to the Boat or The Big Suck or Up from the Slime, & A Young Girl's Primer on How to Attain to the Leisure Class

“RUSSEL. I may very well find her satisfactory - if she's on my level, of course. I've always wanted to meet a girl on my level. Let's see how sharp you are: define "supererogatory".
BONGI. Superfluous; unnecessary.
RUSSEL. Probably luck. What does "comminution" mean?
BONGI. I don't know. What?
RUSSEL. It means pulverization; reduction to fine powder. Define "umbilicate".
BONGI. I give.
RUSSEL. That was an easy one. What's the word sounds like? Obviously, it means having an umbilicus. I'll give you one more chance. Define "wimple".
BONGI. I haven't the vaguest.
RUSSEL. It is...
(He hesitates, surreptitiously pulls a two by five card from his pocket, glances hastily at it and puts it back).
...it means ripple. Well, don't feel to badly; you got the first one right; besides, you're not too bad looking, or, at least, you wouldn't be if you'd put a skirt on and look like a woman.”
― Valerie Solanas, Up Your Ass or From the Cradle to the Boat or The Big Suck or Up from the Slime, & A Young Girl's Primer on How to Attain to the Leisure Class

“GINGER: So nice to meet you, Bongi. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself. What’re your vices?
BONGI: I have no vices – I never drink, gamble or work.”
― Valerie Solanas, Up Your Ass or From the Cradle to the Boat or The Big Suck or Up from the Slime, & A Young Girl's Primer on How to Attain to the Leisure Class