C. P. Cavafy Translated from the Greek by Evan Jones
He said that he'd stumbled into a wall or fallen. But likely the cut on his shoulder was caused by something more serious.
He stood up abruptly, reaching for some photographs on a high shelf that he wanted to hold. The bandage loosened and the cut opened.
I dressed his shoulder again, but was slow in finishing, because it caused him no pain and because I liked to look at his blood. That blood was the source of my longing for him.
When he left, I found at the foot of his chair a bloodied cloth, cotton, a cloth that looked ready for the rubbish bin and that I took to my lips and held there for a long time — the blood of longing on my lips.
"Women in Concrete Poetry: 1959-1979, a new anthology released by Primary Information, coincides with a resurgence of interest in concrete poetry....Women concrete poets are generally lesser known than their male counterparts; one poet, Tomaso Binga, drove the message home when she playfully but pointedly adopted a male name."
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“I remember telling my students give me a minute I have to write something down, and though I say 'the words just came' the language itself felt almost intrusive, like a clumsy adaptation of a finer, more efficient form of communication—and yet, the pressure to inscribe was compelling. It was like passively receiving something and also being able to physically make something at the same time."
