PUGNA
scene one
I place my head on my knees
Its frowns are all of silence
Enter the joker with bells
On his costume I move the pawn of my head.
scene two
Tucker of earth and heather
for the dead man’s attire.
Time, dice-playing child … Tell me
why do I so resist and wither
and break?
scene three
Fully armed I’ll stand on the plain
and fight it out with the elfs
that assume my countenance.
The galloping trees
will trail my most durable garment.
Better to endure – alas! –
than to wait for the anonymous.
SPECIAL JOURNEY
Time passed by here. If you have a moment, it said, allow me to treat you to something. Cinders were all I saw, remnants of happening hardly recognizable; ringstones instead of fingers, moaning where the wind had stroked the hair. Why refuse and how? Inner lights turned on, not necessarily for celebrations, but for loneliness to be a brilliant room devoid of dark, cozy corners – the plants taking up so much space, to the point of my exclusion.
Blindly I enter sleep, which for others is affliction. Wakeful, wakeful pain. The joy of lulling the beast to sleep and hearing it gnaw at your bones. The blackness you worship unto death. All sadness that turns into violent hate: there where your body is perfected and you don’t exist beyond the dreadful drive of devastation. Beyond fear, vulnerable to the core, dancing sprightly among meteors. Unimposing, insignificant.
Sugar for the dreams. For the big brown bear of dreams. I rub myself against its back. Its teeth bite gently, even though I plunge into them. My blood fills with velvet terror, though I’d wish for bursts of fire.
According to the above, I saw Time’s double face without revealing the faces I own. I cover my flesh with eyes to achieve most nakedly whatever I withstand.
– –
From LANDSCAPE OF DESCENT
First Introductory Poem
Whatever happens
happens in dreams
So don’t ever say
Garden is the statue
sun the day
Light only contains.
Come, O glorious silence
Love that is a garden and a garment
Come, O knowledge, that is love
*
Voyage
in penury and opulence.
Memory hitched on stone,
discoloured by sun and rain.
Bones sigh
Words and songs that they once were
shiver.
I’ll take the upper hour
Vertically I’ll rise with the birds.
*
Light with whiteness that bites
and the arrow in suspended
animation:
sudden laughter that sweeps you to the edge
white white air torments you
with cotton wool
and indigo
spring breaks down the door.
“Who is that woman
descending
…………..
from the mountain.”
Η Μαίρη Γιόση (Αθήνα, 1952) σπούδασε Νομικά στο Πανεπιστήμιο Αθηνών και Κλασική Φιλολογία στο Πανεπιστήμιο του Τορόντο. Είναι αναπληρώτρια καθηγήτρια στη Φιλοσοφική Σχολή του Πανεπιστημίου Αθηνών. Έχει εκδώσει τις εξής ποιητικές συλλογές: 1) Πασιφάη [Δέκα ποιήματα], Αθήνα 1981 (εκτός εμπορίου, με το όνομα Μαίρη Κάσου. 2) Τοπίο κατάβασης, και άλλα ποιήματα, Αθήνα 1985 (με το όνομα Μαίρη Κάσου). 3) Ειδική διαδρομή, εκδ. Στιγμή, Αθήνα 1990. 4) Οι γάμοι, εκδ. Στιγμή, Αθήνα 1993. 5) Χαμηλός ουρανός, και άλλα ποιήματα, εκδ. Οδός Πανός, Αθήνα 2006.
