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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781742199245 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Spinifex Press |
| Publication date: | 10/01/2014 |
| Pages: | 192 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.75(w) x 8.50(h) x 0.60(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Lupa And Lamb
By Susan Hawthorne
Spinifex Press Pty Ltd
Copyright © 2014 Susan HawthorneAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-74219-924-5
CHAPTER 1
Lupa
descent
the call
that hollow sound of Cumaea
I was here before
thousands of years ago
your hundred mouths
shouting
words frothed at the edge
of my mouth
the journey looming
flight into the unknown
descent into
the dark thighs of your cave
my hair snake-wreathed
Etruscan Medusa
speaking with a hundred voices
the sibilant hiss of prophecy
seizure grasped
I flail at vanishing memory
bruised rise from darkness
almost miss the plane
canis
my stars are in the constellation
of the dog
it's hot when Canicula rises
as hot as it gets
at night we sleep in packs on rooftops
sharing grains herbs and wine
I've seen the wording
in the Etruscan museum
women depicted reclining
in ways that are suggestive of hedonism
how odd
when Socrates reclines with his pals
they call it philosophy
suggestive of intellectual activity
Artemis and Artemisia
I run with hounds
paint my revenge
in the eyes of Holofernes
I carry the stain
a bitter herb
I am of the forest
hunt when I must
but I prefer cushions
open fires roiling seas
nightwoods
and love
throw me to the wolves
love is sneaky creeps up from behind
surprises you at an intersection
shouts boo in the piazza
Venus sits with us over morning coffee
espresso doppio latte macchiato
and biscotti to share
are you your family's black sheep? I ask
my wolfish eyes on Agnese
wolf-bellied desire showing
as the moon sets we sit
on the roof terrace listening
bark of dogs distant howl of wolves
invitation
an invitation from Livia
to the party of the missing millennia
she's calling it the epochal reunion
good times for milliners
we have to wear a hat
be there on midsummer's day
Agnese I ask
have you seen her new extension?
sunken garden
dining room all in one
like the house of the Amazons
in Pompeii
with fruit trees
poppies oleanders
waterbirds and songbirds
makes you cool just to think of it
but we're too early
let's take one of those
open-air time tours
get on get off
we can satisfy
our appetites
our love
and this knee-capping lust
sheepish Agnese
stay in Roma
leave your fields
a few weeks
grass will grow
your flocks will thrive
I want to run wild
with you
turning point
aC BC
is it a band?
aC Avanti Cristo
who is he?
you'll find out soon enough
we could say BCE
AD anno domini
only one god?
how is it possible?
let's call it CE
the known world's
fulcrum
hop-on hop-off bus
from the temple of Venus where we make ancient
vows
to the queen of heaven our witnesses wolfish and
we head across the city but all the buses are
stopped
marchers against the excesses of the curative
industry
they have patented yet another formula of an old
potion
claiming originality against the herbalists' memories
we pass Pantheon and parliament where a rock
band sings against
millennia of corruption from the excesses of Caligula
and Domitian
to Mussolini's megalomania and Berlusconi's bunga
bunga dissipations
we press on to the wedding cake with its winged
women and wolves
stopped by banners across streets buses emptied of
passengers
at last we travel to Labia visiting Costanza at
Agnese's insistence
Agnese is weaving through the ambulatory vault in
a trance
as if following a sheep trail in these catacombs
dedicated to her
where once sheep grazed and the mosaics still sing
Curatrix: tour of the lost texts
let me tell you something about myself
my job as curatrix of Musæum Matricum
is to excavate our history
to find the unfound and the unfindable
go in search of materials ignored
interpret those findings
sometimes with the help of a poet or artist
for academic tedium only gets you so far
the Cambridge school sniffs the wrong path
it cannot see what it is missing
I am going to show you things
those archaeologists deny
they should know since Marija and others
made it clear enough
but an intellectual non-sense
is like a minotaur in the labyrinth's heart
you'll get lost in the dark
and never find your way out
there are skeletons in this labyrinth
and for once they are not ours
Lost text: Ooss: dog three bones has
2011 CE
Rough translation
dog three bones has
moon time crunch time is
[what] is thrown is juggled; dogs howl [under the
moon]
crescent moon centred fence [is]
fish swim [and?] encircle full moon
woman dilly bag carries
crunch time comes
she[?] the mountain path sees [follows] : moon sets
Transliteration
moon : crunch time : three bones : dog : has
fence : ( ) : ( ) : centred : crescent moon : howling
dogs : throw : is juggled
woman : dilly bag : carries : full moon : fish : swim :
encircle : ( )
moon sets : mountain : path : sees / follows : crunch
time : comes
Notes by Curatrix
As is clear from this translation there remain many gaps in our understanding of Ooss. While somewhat ossified, the language does possess a certain transparency as well as some difficulties. The first thing to say is that the language, while partially pictographic, possesses indicators for complex tenses and verb structures. Like other ancient languages it has three persons: singular, dual, plural. One strange element is that only the feminine gender is found (with a few proto-archaic terms in neuter).
This poetic fragment is suggestive of a ritual in which the behaviour of dogs as the keepers of time is unsurprisingly given prominence. The only non-canine actor (the woman) is setting off on a pilgrimage of some sort (crunch time?).
The difficulty with the word 'reflected' is, I surmise, due to the lack of scent in a reflection, so the reflection's unreality is a conceptual lacuna. If the subject of the woman sentence had been a dog, the wide semantic arc would extend to the word 'smells', as well as 'sees' and 'follows'.
It is clear from the original sentence structure that what is before the snout is of prime importance. Furthermore, the moon, the dogs and the woman are in some kind of triangulated relationship with the fish, the sea and the reflected moon. Perhaps one trio indicates the mundane world, while the other has esoteric meanings. The question is, which is which?
what Lupa says
air is sweet in this forest as we follow
earth's ridge toward an Etruscan
hollow Diana running
alongside me
shrine of Demeter dug deep in soil
scraped from earth's heart
smells of two millennia
underworld protection
whiff of ancient rust of grain
her figure in an alcove wheat stalk
visible in her hand I sniff stale air
damp walls
nightfall we camp in ancient caves
Diana seeks traces
of handprints spirals whorls
rounded forms
in the space between night and day
air from Aurora's wings shivers
along my coat I curl into her belly
seeking warmth
rock temple holds us
through nocturnal hoots and howls
dawn birdcalls wake me
into saffron light
Diana laughs
wind lifts her hair
Curatrix has transported us to Sardegna
on the windy heights
rocks
rocks and more rocks
Diana absentmindedly picks artemisia
growing by the path
she's chewing on berries
and her dogs have sniffed out
the truffle patch
no words are needed
old stone women
atop the mountains
talk while sheep
graze the hillside
when we reach
the tempietto
silence drops over us
I touch my hand
heart to forehead
we visit the rock wombs
big enough to birth us both
fully grown
bones red painted
ready for the next life
wind howling
we are reborn
on the far side of the hill
on the outside an archaeological site
on the inside something more
nuraghe
Agnese and I wander
turn full circle
stare at the megalithic words
breasted baetyls and sickled menhirs
rocks piled in poetic structures
we walk hand in hand
between the lines
disappear behind towering boulders
put our ears to the rocks
listen to the songs
the breath of an iynx says Agnese
a wryneck flies between us
all a-hum
creation's breath
labyrinthine myths stories
we tread winding paths
a wall a dead end
spiralling through intangible space
retracing we find other pathways
different tales tucked into crevices
here a spinner
here a songster
stories buried by rockfall
by the passage of wind
and time
here walks the old one
a colossal stone
precariously balanced
like a spindle on her head
she walks and knits
purl one plain one
stories cleave in Sardinia
Scotland Malta
where giants built
mother-daughter temples
in Sardinia
words stream down
towering nuraghe
coalesce in swarms
of tears uncried
story stones
the god roared
throw away those story stones
they are no longer of any use
some died rather than throw away
the stories of the mothers and grandmothers
yarns dating to the beginning of time
some died in resistance to the god's orders
others caved in threw away the story stones
created great rubbles ruins of memory
when you've tossed them out
walk away do not look back
and so these lost ones walked
they walked away from their lands
away from their histories
away from their grandmothers' stones
ancient nerves
a day of ancient argument
when with zealous ear and helpless eye
I go in search of Etruscan relics
find italic grapes oozing sweet nectar
on a frieze birds tweeze worms from soil
ewe wolf uterine maze
night's death hour I wake
to a giant ginger object
rise and sink into oblivion
it was only the moon
sailing through cloud
breast parrot orange
on this feathered planet
or a brazen angel trumpeting dawn
Ilia's dream
circa 740 BCE
I know it is a dream but it doesn't help
every night I relive it
the old woman rushes in with her torch
river-wept in dream-shock
shouting my terrors
dear sister you are father-favoured
but he forsakes me in these hours
I tell you
life and energy abscond
abandon my whole body
the man who takes me
it is Mars
he is handsome and I am swept away
to an enchanted willow grove
embraced by the river
I am lost in that strange locale
my very self displaced
I am ravaged
and he laughs
sister afterwards I ache
I do not know up from down
earth sways at my every step
a disembodied voice sounds
our father Aeneas
you must bear these troubles alone
he does not comfort me
only the old woman with her trembling limbs
he does not come to me nor defend me
he kowtows to the one who calls himself god
as if this excuses rape
I reach my hands skyward
but all the words I hear are smooth-tongued
blandishments
I am heart-sick
and insomnia stalks my sleep
Lupa's story
circa 740 BCE
heat swells like distended breasts
the day after I whelp my cubs
my dugs full craving water
I wander the pink Palatino
to the cool by the river
flood-high from summer storms
I smell Zephyr's breath
hear the thin yelp
find them scratched and naked
tumbling from a wicker basket
I lick the caul from their bodies
first one then the other
they attach mouths to me
almost drain me of milk
like ringlets we curl in the grotto
I know the science of auspex
crows and ravens who bring
morsels of food augur well
there is man-smell in the air
I dare not remain
they are calm now
these pink-fleshed ones
I retreat from sun-glare
into the cave's umbral arms
ovine-faced Faustulus
steps from behind the fig tree
cradles them in sheepskin wrap
stares into my eyes bears them
to the breasts of lush Acca Larentia
who shares my name Lupa
Sabine women
720 BCE
history is being rewritten
it's not rape it's abduction
says Wikipedia that anonymous
unaccountable author
no sexual assault took place Livy says
can we believe him?
let's go over this as if in a court of law
it's a boy-gang led by Romulus
at a signal from him
all capture a woman from the rival gang
what do you think will happen
at this early stage?
let's now look at the Sabine men
they forbid their women to marry Romans
so the Romans conceive a big festival
invite the Sabines – especially the women
now what do you think?
was this a plan or something spontaneous?
the Romans under Romulus
have a deal up their sleeves
the women will have full property rights
and their children born free
does this suggest slavery
was the other half of the negotiation?
that's not a deal it's banditry
colonialism theft bondage
do the Sabine men give in first?
or the women because it is a lost cause?
no sexual assault took place Livy says
do you believe him?
crimes of men
in the imperial palace
Jupiter examines his conscience
finds it failing
but Romulus citizen son of Lupa
has no conscience to speak of
he tells us
don't worry you'll all be citizens with full rights
orders are orders they say
as they shame us
he thinks the sun rises from him
considers his power celestial
forgets that he started life
in a wicker basket on a river in flood
that he might have been food
that his life took a good turn
because of an alliance between
she-wolf and shepherd
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Lupa And Lamb by Susan Hawthorne. Copyright © 2014 Susan Hawthorne. Excerpted by permission of Spinifex Press Pty Ltd.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents
Main characters xi
Preface by Curatrix xiii
Lupa
Descent 3
Canis 4
Throw me to the wolves 5
Invitation 6
Turning point 8
Hop-on hop-off bus 9
Curatrix: tour of the lost texts 10
Lost text: Ooss: dog three bones has 11
What Lupa says 13
Diana laughs 14
Nuraghe 16
Story stones 18
Ancient nerves 19
Ilia's dream 20
Lupa's story 22
Sabine women 24
Crimes of men 26
Diary of a vestal virgin 27
Diana: drama queens 29
Lost text: Sauraseni and Maharastri Prakrits: Sahio, a drama 30
Salone 34
Sulpicia i-vi 35
Sulpicia's lost poem 38
Lost text: Latin: Sulpicia vii 39
Pompeii 40
Sulpicia's grammar lesson 41
xyz says Diana 42
Lost text: Aeolic Lesbian: Psappba in slippers 44
Diana shears Livia's flock 46
Agnese spins Livia's clip 48
Lamb 49
Curatrix to Agnese 51
Lost text: Vedic: edi and avidugdha 52
Basilica Santa Maria degli Angeli e del Martin 54
The world according to Santa Barbara 55
Come to kill us 58
Black sheep 60
Lost text: Kartvelian: Medea's lambs 62
Sant' Angela di Merici on the precative 64
Joan and the Johns 65
the calculus of umbrals 67
Lost text: Etruscan: ativu and atinacna 70
Angelic: ancestors of Curatrix 73
Domitilla and Priscilla 75
for Santa Cecilia 76
crimes of women 77
Sicilia: Santa Felicita 78
Carthage, Tunisia: Santa Perpetua 79
Lost text: Akkadian: if I were booty 80
Australia and Italy: lupa girls 82
Palermo, Sicilia: inquisition 84
Tuscany: II giardino dei tarocchi 85
Australia: sheep town 86
Lesbos: aidos 87
Etruria: Cavalupo 88
Lost text: Linear A: twenty-seven wethers 89
Delos: homeless Latona 91
Australia: memory's labyrinth 93
Malta: hypogeum 94
Ggantija, Malta: archaeology 96
Malta: Curatrix 97
Lambda 99
Six thousand years 101
Lost text: PIE: sheep and the women 102
they came in ships 104
Iynx 105
Craft 106
They call women monsters 107
Minder of the lost texts: Angelic: Curatrix 109
Livia's connections 110
Musæum Matricum 112
Hats 114
Tarantella 115
You can teach an old god new tricks 117
Many breasted 119
Underground 120
Hotel Silvia 121
Performance poem by Curatrix: slut but but 123
Hildegard 125
Wolf pack 126
Lost text: Lupine: La Donna Lupa Paleolitica 130
Friendship among women 132
Tomb of the forgotten women 134
Demeter and Santa Dimitra 136
Future unbuilt 140
Eleonora d'Arborea 142
Panthea 143
Manitari 144
Baubo 145
Seized 146
Sibyls 147
The calculus of lambda (λ) 148
A note on dates 149
Background notes by Curatrix 150
Bibliography 163
Acknowledgements 169