Our next tattooed contributor, Alex Giardino, identified herself to me more as a translator than a poet, but one needs a poetic sense to be able to translate successfully, in my opinion, so she was in. Not to mention, her tattoo is a poem fragment by Kazim Ali, who not only has appeared on the Tattooed Poets Project before (originally here), but has been a wonderful help this past month referring me to other tattooed poets (and translators).
Check out her tattoo:
Check out her tattoo:
Alex shared the following with us, as well:
~ ~ ~
Escaping
the Labyrinth
Tattoos, for me, are thunder strikes. They are
conceived in a single moment of electric clarity. Like love at first sight. That
was how I felt when I heard Kazim Ali read his poem “The Escape” in Napa one
warm spring evening in 2014.
As Kazim stood before a crowd and read these lines,
“Finally free of the labyrinth and overhead nothing but sky,” I felt a jolt of
clarity. These lines must be printed across my right shoulder.
But, first, there was the labyrinth, a tattoo I had
done in Mexico City in December 1996 at a studio somewhere in the Colonia Roma.
It was my first tattoo: an image I stole from the cover of Octavio Paz’s book The Labyrinth of Solitude. I hadn’t read much of the book, and yet I was
utterly familiar with his argument, especially this line, “Man is nostalgia and
a search for communion. Therefore, when he is aware of himself he is aware of
his lack of another, that is, of his solitude.”[1]
I had been living in Mexico for several months, unable to speak Spanish, in a
failing relationship and often wandering alone down ancient streets. The tattoo
would be my reminder of that time, when I felt trapped in a labyrinth of
solitude. Despite twice being redone, the tattoo eventually became a
dollar-coin-sized indigo blur on my left shoulder.
Flash forward to that warm 2014 evening, eighteen
years later, when I was listening to Kazim read. By now, I had been freed of
that sense of isolation and loneliness I felt in Mexico because I had found
communion with other writers and with my own writing. Now, there was Kazim, a
poet-teacher, reading before me and his boyfriend Marco, my fellow MFA student,
sitting next to me--both of them a part of my extended writing community.
The thunder strike: I am free of that labyrinth, and
to mark that awareness, a tattoo of Kazim’s words.
I waited a few months, until my birthday in late
August, to have the tattoo done, a gift to myself to mark 48 years. It was
inked at Spider Murphy’s in San Rafael, California. Waiting those few months to
have the tattoo done gave me time to think about my understanding of Kazim’s
lines and of the myth of Icarus and Daedalus that inspired them.
That myth tells us that creation cannot exist without
destruction. The artist knows this. Invention for invention’s sake is not
enough. Sacrifices must be made, and consequences faced. “To create a
beautiful, well-wrought sculpture from a block of stone, one must destroy all
the other possibilities inherent in the stone.”[2] When one story is told, a
thousand others are not.
As I walked out of Spider Murphy’s with Kazim’s words
on my shoulder, I wondered: What do I make now of the open sky above?
I choose stories to write every day, aware of the sacrifices
and consequences of telling them.
[1] Octavio Paz, The Labyrinth of Solitude (New York: Grove Press, 1961), 195.
[2] Kristopher James Ide, “The Daedalus of History and Myth: The Meaning of Creation in Literature from Homer to Joyce” (Honors Thesis, Dept. of Comparative Literature, UC Davis, 2011), p. 30.
~ ~ ~
The
Escape
Father whose purpose swims
while the universe mends itself
Wind was water
porpoise was prophet
Father my swim
the sutured eventual blue splinters
Seed planter, hedonist
heathen when the unwise son fell to pieces
Purposeless when the father
flew for cover
The cloven will cleave
the water finishes itself, finishes me
Stream unreeling, you are
the end of the world, an endless horizon
It’s a sham, this charnel-choice
between heaven and home
Finally free of the labyrinth
and overhead nothing but sky
~ ~ ~
Alex Giardino is a writer, translator, and teacher living in
the Bay Area. She received an MA from Mills College and an MFA from the
Stonecoast Program at the University of Southern Maine. Her work has appeared
in various publications and on air. She translated My Life with Pablo Neruda and is now at work on several picture
books for children. More about her work can be found at alexgiardino.com.
Kazim Ali is a
poet, essayist, fiction writer, and translator. His books include The Far Mosque, The Fortieth Day, BrightFelon, and Sky Ward He teaches
creative writing and comparative literature at Oberlin. His website is
kazimali.com.
Thanks to Alex for sharing her words and her tattoo with us here on Tattoosday! Thanks also to Kazim for inspiring the tattoo and for his continued support of the Tattooed Poets Project!
Thanks to Alex for sharing her words and her tattoo with us here on Tattoosday! Thanks also to Kazim for inspiring the tattoo and for his continued support of the Tattooed Poets Project!
This entry is ©2016 Tattoosday. The poem and tattoo are reprinted with the authors' permission.
If you are reading this on another website other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.blogspot.com and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.
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