Michal Lapinski Studio

VISITATIONS
Collection
Visiting places of disappearance
Vienna, the Day of Anschluss, Easter, March 2008
Visiting places of disappearance
makes you feel emptied
of the invisible presence
and of possible goodbyes
that could echo
that could resound
that would not fall
into the well of silence
visiting places of goneness
grabs you by the throat
and squeezes the air
out of your lungs
your breath solidifies
into an icy surface
under which you can see
frozen faces
of the dead
visiting places of the carnival
is no less demanding
you consume
large quantities of do-not donuts
then you train to be a clown
to join a crowd of like-minded jesters
who juggle the coloured Easter eggs
with such a skill
that they never fall
never break
never live


The song of Golden Praha
“Co se stalo se Zlatou Prahou
Prý je pořád tady
Ta celá nádhera
Ty všechny uličky, věžičky
A Karlův Most”
What happened to Zlata Praha?
The guide says it is still there
with all its unsurpassed medieval beauty
with all these towers, little streets
and the figures on the Karlûv Bridge.
Why can't I see it?
I thought I held the rights
and that Praha in all its glory
and its little cosy charm
belonged to me
an spite of the long years
of separation...
An unending cavalcade of grey tourists is passing
along the figures of kings and saints
who extend their hands
for alms and tips
they don't get many
everyone is busy
taking photos of themselves.
Gold is produced though
in hundreds of pizza restaurants
and in the little shops selling the Chinese junk
and the Russian army caps.
Renaissance of unmitigated greed
produces a stream of coins and notes
Flowing into underground vaults
of the foreign banks.
Tourist with their eyes glowing
rush me by, singing hallelujah
and I am left on a cobbled, slippery pavement
holding a souvenir of a headless puppet.

The river is brown and cold
it is snowing
the golden carp
must have died.
But I throw a crown
into the murky water
perhaps the sun will shine again
over the domes and roofs of Golden Praha
of my dreams
and the golden carp
will sing The Ode of Joy:
“Zlatá Praha samosřejmě
Patří ke mně” -
Golden Praha
that I can see
belongs to me.

Venice, Covid
the empty chambers of my heart
are filled with confetti
when blood turns into paper
the heart breaks into tiny bits
in the suspension of silence
you can hear the eerie rustling
those are masks of the Venetian carnival
now wrapped in crepe
they get soaked in sorrow
and flow with the swill to the canals
which cannot contain the painful flow
and they burst

the enraged spill
carries the coffins out to the sea
The lyrebird
the lyrebird has fallen down
with flapping wings, from starry sky
how could she fly
at all
no cry, no tears shed, no way
down to the earth
now
the crowd had come before
to watch the rise, to see the fall
to clap and cheer
to mock
to have their way
what they do now
they clap and cheer, they mock
or fall apart
far down
much farther than they ever dreamt
their fall
her fall
where is she now
back there, on stage
out of the hole
shakes off the ashes, makes sure
sings out her song
aloud
whose song it is
whose song it was
she seems to know
so well
as we all do
we know for sure
we always did
how else

I know for sure
it must be mine
how else
it sounds so well
how bright it shines
no doubt at all
but now fullstop
the ladybird has come along
and said in fact
we do not know
perhaps at all
too many dots, too many lines
I've told you that
so many times
but you forget
and now
you can go home, sweet prince,
go home
Stranger quartet
Prelude
Stranger forgive me
I would like to shake your hand
but my fists are clenched
I could open my arms and embrace you
but then I would reveal
that I've got nothing in my right hand
not even a pocketknife
and in the left
I hold a tiny heart that cannot speak.
Leadership ambitions
I want to rule
to tell people what to do
to realise my great projects
and have people say
Gosh, how lucky we are to have a leader like that!
The trouble is —
I can count only on one vote
the rest of the population
would love to see my head roll.
The explosive
I better keep you at arms length
how would I know what you keep
close to your chest
it can be a scorpion
or an explosives' belt.
I could take you to my bosom
but if the love erupts
who's gonna hold my hand
lest I would blow up.
Judith
When I want to take you
you make me a bed of feathers —
come stranger, speak softly
the demons sleep
We drink from the same cup
what I don't know
is my poison and your strength
When the dream is cut to pieces
with shards of the broken mirror
there is no one to wake up
to the steely embrace of dawn.




