Nox Oculis

Donna Masini

Donna Masini est professeur titulaire du programme d'écriture au Hunter College et anime des ateliers de poésie à l'Université Columbia. Elle possède une voix typiquement new-yorkaise, ayant grandi dans Brooklyn. Elle est graduée du Hunter College et de l'Université de New York.

Son oeuvre a été applaudie pour son pouvoir de communication et sa charge émotionnelle. Elle a été décrite comme austère et sensuelle, énergique et intime. Ses thèmes touchent surtout la réalité urbaine, les passions de la classe ouvrière, pleines de force morale et de générosité. La poésie de Masini est à la fois viscérale et transcendante.

Le recueil de poèmes, That Kind of Danger, remporta le prix Barnard en 1994. Récipiendaire de bourses du NEA et de la Fondation New York pour les Arts, ses poèmes sont parus dans TriQuarterly, Paris Review, Georgia Review, Parnassus, Boulevard, ainsi que dans d'autres revues.

The Sky Could Send You

    Tonight in the shadow of alien green,
    the dark around us breathing, a man points out the obvious
    stars. I stand beside him under the cosmic mess.
    Clutter, I whisper, you could connect anything,
    join any dots to form a dipper or belt.
    My eyes cannot find any cluster twice.
    What I want to say is you could lose yourself
    in a sky like this. Looking into the flicker
    of history, already dead to somewhere else.
    There is so much time in a sky like this,
    in our silence and the strangeness
    of these ancient stars. Islands of light.
    They remind me of my dead friends, my infidelities.
    This night with is shadows and monsters
    is too big for me. Random, irrational
    as love, no matter what pictures we pretend to find.
    Is this why we make a dipper or belt ?
    To contain it, make it familiar ?
    Where are the gods in a sky like this ?
    It is very clear, the man beside me is saying,
    but I am lost. I see nothing.
    Night looks like a broken thing,
    as though an enormous lamp had shattered
    scattering pieces of itself throughout the dark.
    Is this why lovers reach to touch one another when the sky could send you
    so far into yourselves you would become
    someone else. The moon is beautiful,
    I read somewhere, but dead.
    I look up into the cavey dark, the silence.
    I have never understood the position of stars,
    never seen either dipper, never traced Orion's
    belt, seen a bull, a bear, an arching centaur in the sky.
    Patternless as measles the stars are.
    Oh how I have wanted things to be clear :
    love, promises, the random dark.
    Beneath the curved horn of a dead moon
    I think, listen to him, watch, this might be faith,
    that the names name. This might be hope or delusion,
    and maybe I do begin to see the beginnings of a handle, there, just there, where the lights are
    slightly brighter.

    Donna Masini

Références :

Oeuvres poétiques :

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