06 March 2007

Featured Poet: Lina ramona Vitkauskas

Lina ramona Vitkauskas is the author of the chapbooks THE RANGE OF YOUR AMAZING NOTHING (Ravenna Press, 2007), Failed Star Spawns/Planet Star (dancing girl press, 2006), and Shooting Dead Films With Poets (Fractal Edge Press, 2004). Her poetry and fiction have been included in many anthologies and publications including The City Visible: Chicago Poetry for the New Century (Cracked Slab Books, 2007), Van Gogh's Ear (Paris), Rampike (University of Windsor), The Prague Literary Review, The Chicago Review, Paper Tiger (Australia), Melancholia's Tremulous Dreadlocks, 3 AM Magazine, Bridges (The Lithuanian-American Journal), In Posse Review Multi-Ethnic Anthology (Ilya Kaminsky, editor), The Mississippi Review, The Wisconsin Review, Lituanus (Lithuanian Quarterly Journal), and Del Sol Review (featured writer). Upcoming publications: Another Chicago Magazine, Aufgabe.


each moment is a tragedy
Rosa has never yet
dwelled in, tabular
and peppered as cryptographs
a lowered unfurled bun,
snarled lashes, unturned
simpers, hands of fingerless
radioactive passion. at a commercial,
she stumbles on dark
grounds, marries a traitor,
dies with great emphasis.
Rosa may never know the
paroxysm stereotype
of her name, the stigma
of being a cutter, ooloo, mistress.


my mirage
not ready
to be red
your voice
a seed or
land mine.
in a muzzle
of girls, I
am your tutor,
X-ray the
and wristwatch.

I pour you the Rhine,
you Suisse my throat.
Resuscitate the
afternoon. We had
this habeas form,
these mechanics.

Maya, the dream,
I and you walk
and a few hairs
like Mrabet invite
this sand, this passion-
flower dissection. In
a crabshell you despond
and I vest my biology
upon it. There,
only three worlds
for my home.


isn't it you,
that guarded man
in navy standing
by the fish, blackberries
smeared upon doors
warning the hazel doves
of corruption in the tank

hatbox her, the men
recede the garnet wombs
new woman flesh
her Apollo mound
is a boy in space

fumbling with his
pinesap whistle carved
into a gellatin kirtle
of false eyelashes and rage.


In granite
everything stills
as we are plantiffs,
plantains, and misfits

with our nylon gardens
steeped in pine,
your mouth a dream
and needles of barren

slumber this floor
foresting for stems of
English pocketwatches
in your eyes of paraffin

and what I reach
I cannot undo
this next communication
a collage you must construct.


A catatonic Finn
with strings,
& a cigar box
trinket laid on a
stable boy's straw
bed, lapsed.

My hands still
thin tones of
varnish and frozen
flax, my killed beak
mangled breath.

A hollow chord
across Fjords,
cannot see my
blue brother
in the bramble,
my Oppenheimer
atoms a vaginal bomb

in miles of spoilers.
A capella this one
whom creates my violence!
I love these wars,

pontoon bridges
of masculinity,
death in the ledger
under my Slovenian notes.

© Copyright 2007 Lina ramona Vitkauskas

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