Performance of Becoming Human #418: Excuse me, sir, what time is the massacre?
welcome to the airbreathdeath theatre
here we are in the airbreathdeath theatre
april 18 in the airbreathdeath theatre
i drone away
at my life in the airbreathdeath theatre
i drone away
at my breathdeath in the airbreathdeath theatre
the episodes blast up like birds
the critics like a coup of the imagination
the critics there to kill
the coup of the imagination
the flowers fall flat on my head and the invisible body flings them from the gallery of the
airbreathdeath theatre
I am dead in the morning
of the airbreathdeath theatre
I am flat in the morning
and there are so many books falling in the airbreathdeath theatre
they fall across the bodies of the dead
there are deserts in the mouths of the forgotten audience members
in the airbreathdeath theatre
the mouths are like reduced mouths
in the airbreathdeath theatre
we try to forget when we see the story
of our breath moving backwards in the airbreathdeath theatre
the translation of our breath
moving from side to side
against the bodies that backtrack
into the backstory of a backlife a backbeat
a refusal to move
a refusal to translate
a refusal
to make the breath
knowable from one body to another
from one tongue to another
from one nation to another
the performance of becoming less human
in the airbreathdeath theatre
aquí no hay epifanios aquí hay puro silencio y los cuerpos caen y caen
the movement from human to less human from humane to more humane is not graspable
it runs mouth to mouth
it runs breath to breath
it runs death to death
it boils and runs and blooms and dies and forgets and revenges and robs and runs and boils and runs
and grows and forgets and revenges
and we the performers in the airbreathdeath theatre
build a life inside the ceremony of refusal
the ceremony that begins with a little village-wiping bomb blast
the bombast
the bombed ass
the bomb in the bottom of history
la bomba en el culo del mundo
the body in the shamemouth of history
la bomba en la boca del cuerpo solitario
in the shaking hands in the exploding bodies
the death performers run with fear they run with frenzy
they airbreathdeath theatre into
an unspoken desire
to reunite the self
with the self
the self with the other self
the face with the other face
the grief with the collective grief the shame with the collective shame
desapareció la piña desapareció el aguacate las abejas desaparecieron no hay un horizonte sobre el lago no hay agua en la noche de petroleo
shame
how it dots the map
a colony of imperial dung
it dots the map it is
a colony of imperial dung
flung from the mountain moaning in the middle of the city in the middle of the empire in the middle of the shamemouth in the middle of the airbreathdeath theatre
this is the road that leads to the airbreathdeath theatre
this is the road that hides a forgotten massacre
una gramatica dolorosa no se mira en la boca
it is the road it hides a future forgotten massacre
it is a road it hides a resurrection it is a road
it hides the buckling of the earth the breaking of the pavement the collapsing of the highway
it is a road it hides a future massacre within a past massacre
Is that a body or a mountain?
it hides a resurrection in the collective grief of the faces in the crowd
(excuse me, sir, what time is the massacre?)
no tengo confianza en esta traduccion
they look blank they are performing the mountainness of the mountain
the bodies in the airbreathdeath theatre are trying to become the eternal embarrassment of
nature.
the disappearance of the most beautiful miserable valley has been captured in the faces of the
audience at the airbreathdeath theatre
the captured orangutan turns human when none of the captors are looking
the audience members come to watch the disappearance of their own bodies
they look out on the massacre road and see their bodies evaporating (no surprise)
a documentarian photographs their faces stuck in the mountain
the economists celebrate the macroscopic potential of the animal’s human transformation
the audience members are stuck in the resurrection of the collective grief
by the river the families weepblaze with griefshame
and a voice sings backwards i like the airbreathdeath theatre because it absorbs me
i like the airbreathdeath theatre because it spits me out into a
a reduction of blankness
a reduction of epiphany
an innovation of extermination
a reduction of massacre
an innovation of resurrection
a reduction of performance
an innovation of extermination
a reduction of epiphany
a reduction in the blankness of blank
Performance of Becoming Human #427: the earthstatebank theatre
this is the bodega where the bank now stands
this is the hospital where the bank now stands
this is the garden where the bank now stands
the earth and the state and the bank conspire in the earthstatebank theatre to keep the actors from crying just one more moment
let me finish this tantrum pleads actor number 426.53
let me finish the rage I am feeling so acutely
it brings me so much pleasure to throw a tantrum as the bombs are falling so gently
you see
I was dying in the niche when the earthstatebank theatre made everyone look at me
she was dying in the desert you were dying in the sand they were dying in the walls
we just wanted to be alone but the eartbankstate theatre forced us to live in its communal hole
and as we performed for the earthstatebank theatre a city broke open in the hole
the algorithms that destroyed the cities broke open
there was a landscape in the earthstatebank theatre
and in the landscape there were obliterated factories thousands of borders men who beat children as a profession citizens who beat non-citizens as a profession
come work for us beams a billboard in the lobby of the earthstatebank theatre
beat all the illegal bodies you want and throw in a few legal ones too
an unarmed motorist in the earthstatebank theatre is a body waiting to be obliterated beyond repair
bienvenida a la tierra sanctificada bienvenida a la ciudad de tu origen bienvenida al momento más tranquilo de tu vida
did you hear the one says actor number 9843.231A about the Amusement Park of the Americas division of the earthstatebank theatre
it’s fun says actor number 9843.231A
you can be the kidnapper or you can be the kidnaped
you can even be the verb “to kidnap”
in the earthstatebank theatre you get to be the desert or you get to be the bodies that cross it
you get to be the border patrol or you can simply be the verb “to patrol”
you get to be the bodies dropping and moving dropping and moving or you can be the earth or you can simply be the verbs “to drop” “to move” “to run” “to crawl” “to hide”
you can never be the bank
but you can be interest assets or dividends you can even be future projections on expected growth
let me say a few words about the history of the earthstatebank theatre
once upon a time there were cages massacres burning lakes burning walls burning love burning nights
words carved into bodies
bodies carved into mountains bodies carved into sky scrapers tree trunks factories
(just breathe) were the words carved into the flesh
(just breathe) were the words carved into the mouths
(just breathe) were the words carved into the silences
my poem makes so much so sense says earthstatebank poet #XB842.1 every time I recite it I get a message on my cell phone
someone will die because of your breath
or
go back to the mouth man….don’t you see all the poems are in the gag….the gag in the mouths of prisoners numbers 1-499
lips check blood check sweat check drool check drivel check baba check check check check check check check check
the gag has been in so many mouths the poem has been in so many mouths
the gag and the poem are the same
repeat
the gag and the poem are the same
I repeat the gag and the poem are the same
I repeat
the gag and the poem are a symbol
I repeat
they are a symbol for a gag and a poem
back in the quote-un-quote “real world”
the little league team smokes meth in the dugout while the firing squad stands in front of the precinct shooting at the bodies who vote
had a dream says actor # 4912.4 that the earthstatebank theatre was no more than a series of numbers that people from my childhood kept shouting at me
first grade Kevin shouted 89 Jonas from basketball shouted 42
Eli the neighbor shouted 151314151523156327 and we all understood that each number was a blank space in the universe that would be occupied by an illegal face we would say goodbye to when the bank popped up where the earth used to be
ain’t nothing to do but drink and accumulate debt in the earthstatebank theatre cause we cannot separate who we are from what we owe
let’s call the lenders “God’s breath” say the administrators at the earthstatebank theatre
there’s a small bit of humanity in my vacuum cleaner says actor #4214.342 during his final soliloquy
let’s prepare the audience she says for the epiphany at the end of this poem
close your eyes
breathe
just breathe and repeat
its not love and it’s not evil
it’s just a small bit of humanity
trapped in your vacuum cleaner
the better to sweep your floors with my dear
the better to suck up
decades of bone and skin
Daniel Borzutzky is a poet and translator. His latest books are Written After a Massacre in the Year 2018; Lake Michigan, a finalist, for the Griffin International Poetry Prize and The Performance of Becoming Human, winner of the 2016 National Book Award. He has translated books by Raúl Zurita, Jaime Luis Huenún and Galo Ghigliotto. His translation of Paula Ilabaca Nuñez's The Loose Pearl will be published in Fall 2022 by Co-im-Press. He works at the University of Illinois at Chicago.