Mythistorema

After my last two posts on The Laughing Bone, I noticed that B. Jones' name was being tagged the bottom. In my attempt to correct this, it seems that I was compelled to start my own blog. I guess that there are not too many occassions where a blog is continued after a person's death. Anyway, since it was here, I thought that I might as well post something every so often regarding the efforts I am making to publish the archives of B. Jones.


I don't imagine I will have much time to write anything of interest here - certainly nothing on the level of the postings of B. Jones.

I will leave off with a short piece from one of B. Jones' favorite poems by the Greek poet, George Serferis. This is from the Mythistorema:

I woke with this marble head in my hands;
it exhausts my elbows and I don’t know where to put it down.
It was falling into the dream as I was coming out of the dream
so our life became one and it will be very difficult for it to disunite again.

I look at the eyes: neither open nor closed
I speak to the mouth which keep trying to speak
I hold the cheeks which have broken through the skin.
I don’t have any more strength.

My hands disappear and come toward me
Mutilated.