VOICES FROM THE FIRE: Laszlo Aranyi

Circle

(translated by Gabor Gyukics)

 The furry duck’s crawling on his plate is withered-blue,
       satiated, and later had intercourse 

with his own daughter.

       A villain with a sublime face hangs on the doorknob,
       Jesus is taken away by a hoofed cop. 

                     On a leash, in handcuffs.

Sticky cum runs down on spread thighs:
                     steaming slugs.
       (She who is impregnated by the Holy Ghost, 

gives birth to a feeble idiot.)

       Still a restrictive God,
A homeland that stick us into the reservation 

of our language and tradition,


               hierarchical structure of Family.

       The fraudulent proclaims triple unity…
We are fittingly reborn

in the systematic perspectives. 

       And that’s fine…
But it’s the same thing all over again. 

And we’ll all go to hell. 

Scaly Remains

Evoking the calm breath of menace

             living loaf of challah soaked with the poison of toads.
          “Have you fornicated with the horny devil captain?”

A stray half-bred crucified on the chapel door,
      thick nails driven through him;
deadly twilight
drying dragonfly wing.

A dented, tin breastplate with a hole as big as a fist,
       and the slimy scales of a strained barrel-belly
       foreshadow the previous life of earth

Moon-goblet. Made from the skull of a dead hero. 

Lady Babalon drinks from it. And as an insoluble sediment of the regular intervals of rebirth
      she submerges in the tart wine of God.

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