Dromeas (1994), glass and iron sculpture by Costas Varotsos, Athens, Greece
Crash!
And suddenly, with a crash, I find myself
thrown like Alice into another world.
A world in which self, day, and window lie shattered
on the floor in a sparkling chaos of glass, blood and
sunshine.
In the Confrontation with Glass
In the confrontation with glass,
flesh is rarely the winner.
For whilst the former shatters,
the latter bleeds and knows
pain.
Which is the secret of life's
victory over death.
At the Hospital in Athens
As my doctor displayed her skill with a needle
on gashed head and wounded knee, I found
comfort in the thought that we are born to
embody our scars.
Poppies
We had only the day before been looking at wild poppies
staining the roadside, admiring their obscenity of colour -
'little hell-flames' indeed.
But shocking all the same to discover how the body too
is capable of producing it's own poppy-redness - look!
as drops of blood flower on shards of broken glass.
The Vengeance of Objects
Glass is so unforgiving,
so cruel, so ... sharp!
It cuts and slices the flesh without
mercy or hesitation, or the warm
softness of sand.
As it shatters one can almost hear laughter
and every blood-stained splinter seems to
smile.
On Which Side is Wonderland?
On one side of the glass lives she who offers
love and the prospect of a life together.
And on the other is she who dreams of
an elaborate suicide.
And I have crashed through the window not knowing
on which side I've landed.
I Love Everything That Flows
There is nothing more beautiful than blood
when it flows and carries life away with it.
Nothing more disgusting than when it begins
to coagulate; to clot and to curdle.
There's something shameful about scabs.
