Posted by: Rachel Mallino | March 16, 2009

Dysfunctional Batch #2 – Daniela Olszewska

About the (dys)functional poet:
Daniela Olszewska is the author of two chapbooks, The Partial Autobiography of Jane Doe (dancing girl press) and Resort to Humming (Scantily Clad Press).



I. Glottogony: Jane made up language to explain away Serpent’s video footage of Jane biting into the lustre-fruit. There was, Jane sd, a perfectly reasonable explanation.  For all of this.  Having spent the previous day staring sunward, her eyes had rolled themselves over.  She couldn’t see what she was putting into her petulant mouthy and, being in possession of a naturally naive nature, never thought to question the goodness of a mountain-garden product.  Serpent’s footage wasn’t doctored; it was just awkwardly angled.  NoOne believed none of Jane’s reasonable explanation, but was charmed hard by her burgeoning lexicon.  NoOne decreed that Jane should be sent out into the trouble-colored worlds so that NoOne might further delight in Jane’s faults.

II. RegenerationLanguage made up Jane to explain away Serpent’s video footage of a bitten lustre-fruit rolling around in the grey dust. Under the guise of entertainment, NoOne invited Language into the den to watch Serpent’s footage on loop for six days straight (nights hadn’t been invented yet).  Language attended the screening properly, complimented NoOne’s refined taste in film.  But, afterwards, Language found that there was an image of a greying lustre-fruit rolling around in Language’s brain.  Thus agitated, Language took to verbing on Language’s own tail with Language’s rather adjective-ish teeth.  Accidently on purpose, Language bit off the end-tip of Language’s own tail.  With red surging, Language buried the end-tip at the base of the border of NoOne’s mountain-garden and clipped on the pair of clip-on-able wings Language had filched from NoOne’s den.  Language flew up to a trio of heavyset clouds and sob storied them into agreeing to rain over the funeraled end-tip for six days straight (nights hadn’t been invented yet).  After six days straight (nights hadn’t…), a tiny, scaly Jane popped out of the non-grey ground.  Language had intended to swallow her so that she would become a part of Language that was completely uncutoffable.  But Jane uncoiled her mini, forky tongue so violently that Language, for the first time in Language’s life, lost Language’s appetite.

III. Astronomy: Serpent and Language conspired to make Jane a star. Serpent had a coil sprung for Jane ever since Serpent glimpsed Jane scrubbing rogue-ish in NoOne’s hot tub.  Serpent wanted to explain to Jane what Serpent could do for her, despite Serpent’s lack of hand.  Serpent cornered Language, who owed Serpent a favor (Serpent had taken the fall for Language’s plot against NoOne), and demanded that Language write a lovey letter for Serpent to give to Jane.  Language, being without need for fig leaves, was annoyed by Serpent’s request but decided to grant it as it seemed like a small price to pay to get out of Serpent’s debt.  Language wrote a lot of words about stars (this was especially impressive as stars weren’t visible yet) and let Serpent sign the letter with Serpent’s bumpy, backwards S.  Serpent presented the letter to Jane while she was toweling off from her latest hot tub session.  Serpent watched Jane hold her face blank as she pretended to read the letter.  After what seemed like an appropriate amount of time, Serpent cleared Serpent’s throat in a way that signified that Jane should say something.  Jane glanced over at NoOne, who was passed out in NoOne’s gold and sandalwood pool chair.  NoOne’s fist clenched around a still burning cigar. Jane batted her still-wet eyelashes, she stretched her arms over her head so that her towel slipped down a few inches.  Serpent intook air.  Sharply. The clouds crossed their feet over their thighs.  And then, in a tone that indicated that there was no such thing as a bad idea, Jane sd to Serpent, Go get your video camera.



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