Open Is Broken

by Betsy Warland

Genres: Poetry, Lesbian

50 pages, Paperback

Published January 1, 1984

Reviews

[mwpm · Rating 3 out of 5]

untying the tongue


what prompted me to write open is broken was the realization that the English language tongue-ties me. this "restricted mobility" was most apparent in my attempts to speak of my erotic life. such speechlessness is not peculiar to me. few erotic texts exist in north american women's writing. is it taboo? TABOO: "ta, mark + bu, exceedingly." are women afraid to "mark" the paper? or as Hélène Cixous writes, "inscribe" ourselves? it is difficult, women already feel (are) far too vulnerable in this society. "To write: I am a woman is heavy with consequences."
(Nicole Brossard, These Our Mothers)

"Patriarchal development of consciousness has an indisputable inner need to 'murder the mother,' that is, as far as possible to negate, exclude, devalue, and repress the 'maternal-feminine' world which represents the unconscious."
(Erich Neumann, "Narcissism, Normal Self-Formation and the Primary Relation to the Mother")

immediately surfaces the second intimidation: fear of narcissism, though few mirrors stand in which we can see our eroticism reflected, we are terrorized by the thought of this accusation. safer to have no "marks." no marks? pornography is ignorance. and romance? we have been persuaded to believe eroticism is romance. ROMANCE: "made in Rome." so much for romance! the world itself connotes fabricating an image outside ourselves compared to discovery of the erotic wellspring within.

* * *

"The map is not the territory." (Alfred Korzybski), for K. & A.


when did it happen
was there a moment of mutation?

where did we originate
are we a displaced civilization?

foreigners, we are foreigners
we have not named this planet
this is a second language we speak

forever fugitive
we carry small packs on our backs
alert, keeping
hands free
(a daily manoeuver rehearsed instinctively)

our country
our bodies
edge
boundaries of viciousness:
each country's conviction
to colonize us

* * *

certain birds, for C.N.


your legs lie sister mountain ranges
their true names known only to one another

i migrates to this valley instinctively
on a string of strangers' memories
untraceable as my irregular thumbnails
which no one can explain to me

now, when i hold you in my mouth
i sing music
known only
within the chambers of our bodies

sound before the warp of words

certain birds are not taught their song
know it
without having heard it sund

* * *

is water


we meet in water stay under
as long as we can so sound, vision wane
into dark/reflection's origin want met
we meet in fluid
rushes from sources unknown over our bodies hot and claiming
we provoke its pouring require territorial marking a wilderness
remember the way wet
in want encountered, these holy
waters current us down
where sources are untraceable what is
is water
wants

* * *

fish tongue


at the mouth of your river
fish tongue swims searches depths
follows currents chases moans glimmering
in underwater shafts of light nibbles
contours thickens with you
dizzy from tasting
everything swelling reaches
toward come your silky waters silky
waters fondling fish tongues

* * *

pilot light


if it were to tell you
that i had entered that place
that possibility i had always imagined
kept a pilot light burning
in my deepest chamber
would you believe me
would you even listen?

i am finding
fulfillment a lonely landscape
few dare travel

finding
when i had expected to speak most eloquently
i am quiet

find i fathom the moon's
exquisite silence

* * *

in the palm of your hand


i broke in the palm of your hand
palm: "planet" drawing my
menses to a new meter

you did not notice the blood
desire: "shine(ing)" on hands guiding wheel
steering you home through "sidereal" time

startled in bathroom light
violence/injury clicked in mnid

this was not murder but midwifery