Finally, sharing these poems by Ginczanka are giving me life and fire, until my copy of her book arrives:
Betrayal
No one will shackle me.
Sin out of suede and bats
has hung in the attics of terror, its half-mouse snout upside-down—
At dusk I’ll slip out the tower, escape the fortified tower,
through slash and slice of wasp,
barbed wire of poisoned herb—
Heavily they’ll rise through the rubble: the commandments’ crowded crags,
the twenty hells of the Vedas,
the flames,
the tempest
the screech,
the fanatical night will threaten to stone me with stars,
I’ll slip through their fingers like mercury.
Nothing will shackle me.
If you become a wolf, I’ll turn into a wagtail—
if you be eagle, I’ll be winding wonders——
with impenetrable intent I’ll prevent your every turn.
The world won’t shackle me,
my darling—my love—my dear
unless I myself desire
sweet
Maytime
constancy.
Asscension of the Earth
Pull down, tear down, crush clouds
like a flabby cicatrix –
Let the sun melt you,
burn you with heat –
Pull down, tear off your faces indifferently hypocritical –
shriek your hatred rather cruelly –
spread out, destroy,
bite the world to a pulp,
unload yourselves in vortices and swirl as whirlpools,
all, everything suppressed in blood, burst into foam,
and tear up the rosary of prayers,
and weave in sincerity like a dance,
and in the froth of the froth,
with what life has given you,
in your own fire, burn yourselves
and with your truth infect
the globe.
The fat earth is most fertile.
It will whistle for eternity,
…will throw a track around the sun..,
and begin to shake the stars –
it will rage free:
river, forest and field
and in the fires of its own blood –
– – fall down in worship to God –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
(slavery – humility of love!)
the quietest, – the simplest, –
6 September 1933
Those first hints of gold emerging in the birches though…
com·mon·place book| ˈkämənˌplās ˌbo͝ok | noun: a book into which notable extracts from other works are copied for personal use.
Though the line "where does it end?" from a white settler pissed me off. Maybe it ends when all the land is back, my dude? Maybe white people should have been asking that question of themselves many generations ago.
I had the exact same response to that article--the ending infuriated me. I can't stand that people still have such entitled attitudes to the lands they live on. But I was heartened to read that the land transfer was happening...
"I’ve stood up because I can’t contain the energy the poems put in me." Ò Tuama
Yes to that!
yes—oof, totally.
On Land Back, this was a small bright spot in the last week: https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2023/sep/03/native-tribe-upper-sioux-agency-us-dakota-war
Though the line "where does it end?" from a white settler pissed me off. Maybe it ends when all the land is back, my dude? Maybe white people should have been asking that question of themselves many generations ago.
I had the exact same response to that article--the ending infuriated me. I can't stand that people still have such entitled attitudes to the lands they live on. But I was heartened to read that the land transfer was happening...