a discourse
Simina Banu

You have a collection of axes.

Regarding their throwing:

there are times of year

and week and day

when your accuracy gets either better

or worse.

Philosophically, it all depends.

Some of your axes

are paper-mâché,

made from old copies of

De la grammatologie and

Pouvoirs de l’horreur,

and some are hatchets

you’ve had thrown at you,

refashioned with fancy handles into axes.

Still others

are just mean,

covered in scribbles lamenting

their own existence.

These are the sharpest.


or bad throwing

livens the apartment

as I stumble toward the door.

One of the mean ones

gashes my shoulder

and I scream sorry!

Philosophically, it all depends

on whether you were aiming

for the photograph

or me.

We deconstruct your intentions

for a couple of hours, but I leave

when you mention the blood

could be ruining the parquet.

Outside I drip

to the nearest tree.

I’ve gotten in the habit

of collecting shade

with a shovel.

I fantasize about annihilating

all the theories you admire

with either logic, art or gardening

but it doesn’t matter

in a love story.

They’re smart,

you’re smart,

everyone’s smart.

I’ve placed the dirt into the wheelbarrow

and have fallen in the pit.

Originally from Romania, Simina Banu is interested in the poetics of translation and untranslatability. She also finds inspiration in pop music, consumerist culture and technology. Her work has appeared in journals such as filling station, untethered, The Feathertale Review, DUSIE, and In/Words Magazine. In 2015, words(on)pages press published her first chapbook, where art. Her second chapbook is forthcoming with above/ground press.