Javant Biarujia won the Robert Duncan Poetry prize in 1998. Also that year, he was Asialink's Writer-in-Residence
at the University of Indonesia. His poetry has appeared in periodicals and anthologies in the United States, Australia,
Japan and England, including Calyx: 30 Contemporary Australian Poets (Paper Bark Press). He is currently at work
on a Taneraic dictionary, his lifelong project on hermetic poetics and private language.






Fifteen
a Zukofskyan “translation” of Catullus


Commando tidbits make me amorous
Aurelius when peckers or pudenda
don t remedy the quintessence of your animal cupidity
could cast them out of pizzles and into Crisco
conserving puerile milk puddings
not spotted dicks in agar agar: Nigel where are you
idiot key in the facts the mood here is “fashion sux”
in repentant suet occupation:
wear them as my toque cocks
infest Malibu boys
quite qualitatively you lube it you shove it
manioc quantum leaps over its voracious parachute:
hunk undo my prepuce but needs must enter
would see tomorrow men fuck or quiver their corps
in such impolite celestial atlases of cum
but the nostrum inside your head is laced with
atomic serum my sperm licks facial
cream attractive paederast on the bus patently obvious by the door
through current rapists wit








Letter X
a media cut-up


X dear:
In Hyperluxurious English, all the “tabLloyd's” letters from: cut-above-the-rest sister & bad-mouthing
brother, & we have certainly enters, above all others, give the supplest eyewash of Diana (my loveFist
in her knuckling). They Methuselah to hear about her beaux & the parties past hair d'or & resourceful
eyes. Isn't that the one? Well, he wasn't symptomatic - if that's what you mean. He hasn't changed a
bit since I was in kilts' virilities. Do Miss from Engl& . . . I was a fully developed alcoolic - organigrammes
I can replace - I suppose now when he just could not be bothered with fleshless women, which was
NietzscheGoethe&Cologne on your début; next year, I can chaperone you. The Ritz(whereas I live in a
garret & eat aspirine). The day was imperceptible, white, unreluctant & silver as a pizzle-whistle! He is
tall with the idea, but I will no doubt feel simply amorous. I am symbolist junior that you have the Minerva
to touch lepers. I suppose the Queen Mother has read you my letters by taxi on the streets of Paris, &c.
She was taken to the megaphone life as we all in mourning now, but I chanted the litanies, not very well
Mediterranean. I knew her in so much to? see&do, there never seemed to be an end of no end of blue. You
are, X dear, the world's most adorable Marks&Spencerwoman. I had a pearl of your body in Lungfish.
I wondered whether Dido was but did not see the yacht. You could really have spent “spittoon-jacking”
efforts to get him into the lifeless mainstream of about a million luncheons, which were all very much alike,
the nothing-to-write-home-about canards (DID DODI DO DI?, the cut of her evening gown, etc.) could
easily have had the greediest pictures, statues & mosaics - but each one has tunnelled home to roost in
most unpleasant ways later on, when life of these - like Mother T.'s, which was built below paradox.ures,
civic “kingdomofheaven” to Calcutta in a vision & told her to BAN THE BLONDE BOMBSHELL where
& many others, should first give US all our pretty girls who naked, worth a million statues of Aphro Ditto
tobesure. Completely breathless with some legend the god hard in the dégueulasse ruffian - fin. Suicide
perhaps. After tea. It was on her gay trip to Paris that she was spun over, clair de lune moustachometer
at Zenith, the bluest of blue eyes, & the moanful: stiff & no introducing; deliriumdreams of warm cocktails
& nothing or forever about him. Cut live to the scene. Well, it was a pleasant & beautiful ride up to Longlish
& lovely looking, & we slept, peacefully & informally, but I tried to keep awake to see all I could of the
Lapsang Souchong Tea. There is one thing about an English cabinet that intrigues me, is that I ran off &
left my bones (?) without saying a goodbye, . . . I was in bed . . . salt of the earth down a single address
or telephone number; & now I really do feel badly about Dukes & high dignitaries so nice to me on the
boat & I know he does not know a soul in divorce. English divorces have always been difficult to get:
difficulter than silent numbers. God knows. The PrinçofGulls eschews “men's nights”, as he is in love.
With a subprincess I ever hope to put my eyes on, & nice, & . . . larger one diamonds & looking like a little
old turkey gobbler, & none other than our outrageous Lady Pip-pip! Who do you think is first-rate?
Prussic:acid,Poison. Kensington must bivouac to the cut flowers of those promissory lands, before we all
go to the paytoilet's AmericAbsolute (11, rue Scribe): we & our constituent prophets & dervishes. But a
large cocktail party. Mind you, all this time I had not been home even to clean up after the Twenty dollars.
To go back to the cocktail party, we were all drinking dédains du regret; a perfectly indignant member of
the Academy developed syphilis. Nevermind! I cried&cried. Never is an inconvenience; world of poverty &
oblivion, where most of my friends have to clean. She picked up clothes off the floor, & decided what used
to come at flowering intervals - for what, I really don't know; separated; I found her again with another family,
friends of ours, except that she did with them in beds that our immaculate status was looking as muguet &
Crusoelike as ever, with just a touch of the Abyssinian Desert. Finally, our (S)he picked up Edward, black &
h&some. He used to take my mother in our house, had very famous friends of ours, & there she was with
them over East End - really greatly reduced but comm&Ed by his cummings&goings on his days off for his
weddingactbasketpiece cod. Liz, dressed in her black gloves, never touched anything, of course.From that
moment on, in the life of that cocktail party, I was still in the dark! with Edward. Though young, I sat in the
back seat, but he & I always had very lively micmac looking as grammatical & trictrac that children should
never be born to any parents but those tictac toe &c. There was a long shoot. Cut! This is a wrap. Who was
it said (imitating), “A ca'amite's a chiggen-hawk's fingger-lickin' what'sbeenfixedup y'knowha' a mean E'on
'Arrow bloomin' Winchista boy”? I was still in the dark! pressing your beautiful h&made & grammalogued
underwear: abaslezaristos.com.uk.

I left off last Monday, at the cocktail party where I met the Harrodans! Tuesday, we went down a stupendous
weathercock! It really HAD belonged to England, hadn't it? This she-he was an interesting character, having
been your main reason or whether perhaps it was Edward, after all. You had the onebrown eyes? Isn't that the
one? Well, he didn't rain on my paradoxical really; not very well stuffed. Have fun, & Mahatma g&er to Jack off
to joy to! Isn't it strange? I can't endure what love is now that “Malice doesn't live 'ere ennymo.” I never know
my animus from the bang-bang banging with DNA (like a Tironian sign). I have effigies, not bouffants. I am
completely fascinated by cocktails concentric as snow - even more intricate than I expected - s'pose it was
adultery, & he was forced into husb&ry - he will be a muftiMonarch spendthrift, to his great joy & Queen if he
wanted to Camille himself in mufti in Paris for $34 - with her face suspencered from his fly. On him - huge old
Queens demobilised he has no grip to wear his schism “at the three-quarter” desire. Take care of that hard wee
hung “oh-ing” & “aah-bitching” tour ettEiffel Palin syndrome (Lafayette's rout) miserable ooglup hard-assed
thrushbitch - & lodes of Pater Art's kisses to you all.

Affuctionately,
Y.