Ping-Pong, the journal of art and literature published by the Henry Miller Memorial Library, is pleased to announce the winner of its second annual poetry contest, Mark Lamoureux. His poem, “Summerhenge, Winterhenge,” was chosen by judge, David Shapiro from among many entries. His poem will be featured in the upcoming issue of Ping-Pong set for release in October 2014. “Spaceship Bodhisattva” is Lamoureux’s poem from the 2011 issue of Ping-Pong.
SPACESHIP BODHISATTVA
What is wanted
or what is needed
as opposed
to what is
on this thin world.
Does not move
at the speed of
rather the universe
arranges itself around,
teeming, although
it is filled
with nothing,
the kinds of
nothing being
infinite.
Is a membrane,
a bubble of
emptiness, within
& without.
The engine rumbles
makes a long sound,
the drum of
its skin is
its engine, vibrates
at a rate of
100 years,
100 years
is not long
unless you are
a gnat.
Is full of gnats,
who will not
live to see
its edges
& otherwise
believe themselves
to inhabit a word
& not
Spaceship Bodhisattva,
who is
a world,
the huge chamber
of its heart
was never built
by anyone
but came to be
by falling asleep,
what it was
awake, before,
no-one
knows & will not
when it wakes,
maybe
it’s you.
Outside the portholes
like zeros
are no stars,
for stars are
very small,
not at all
the size of
Spaceship Bodhisattva,
a mitochondria,
or a dash of filth—
inhabits this ink
with a trillion copies
of itself,
making the black
by which the vacuum
is measured,
the light
just a song of its,
the eyes
of its portholes
being
ears, listening
inside only
insofar as it is
a vessel
with no bottom,
an instrument
with no sound,
as a flute
is a tube, as
a flute
is known
by its sound, but
has no sound
in space,
as such,
is the sound
of space &
is known by
its sound, the same
flute when
the cello is
playing, you are
the cello,
Spaceship Bodhisattva
is the sound
of the room
around the drum,
is the sound of
the skin of
the drum, the pipes
of the ear,
spinning
or at rest,
is too large
to see
too small
to hear, flies
out of
or into
its refection,
is twinned,
or else
is just 2 or more
as sand is,
or you or
me.
Mark Lamoureux lives in New Haven, CT. He is the author of three full-length
collections of poetry: Spectre (Black Radish Books 2010), Astrometry Orgonon
(BlazeVOX Books 2008), and 29 Cheeseburgers / 39 Years (Pressed Wafer, 2013). His work has been published in print and online in Cannibal, Denver Quarterly, Jacket, Fourteen Hills and many others.
