Mario Azzopardi: An Outline for My Poetry

An Outline for My Poetry

My poetry
is not written for the cabals
of academics.
It doesn’t seek patronage.
It isn’t read at meetings
for  sycophants.
My poetry is not a wedge.
It is not written to seduce
to butter saints up.
A sponsored tart
my poetry is not.

                             My poetry
                             is written for the cross-bow of instinct,
                             to rupture heads.
                             It is written in amphibian chaos,
                             in the waters of the brain.
                             It is written in nailed condemnations
                             on internal crucifixes.
                             It is born of betrayals.
                             Written in an epileptic fit
                             is my poetry,
                            with coal and brimstone.
                            Crammed into germs it is,
                            written with a cactus thorn,
                            written with the ink-blood 
                            of  insurgence.
                          In the cavities of the gums of the dead
                          poetry is written.
                          It is written without holy water.
                          It rises from a bottomless reservoir.
                          It is writen in hell.
                          In cancer wards it is written
                          and it coagulates instead of a pulverised lung
                          or lacerated organs.
                          It is written in the moments of thrombosis.
                          It is written when spiders
                          scourge my eyes
                          through nights of vulgar testimony.

                           It mocks precepts
                           my vagrant poetry,
                           shorn of a will.
                           It is writtten before suicide.

Translated by Patricia Gatt

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