Marisel Douzeni is a new arrival on the literature and poetry circuit, hailing from Greece and the Dominican Republic where she grew up. She is currently studying Spanish Philosophy and has begun work on her debut novel. Her work has been published in the Belleville Park Pages and she is influenced by Sylvia Plath, John Keats, Mary Oliver and Robert Frost among others.
All the beautiful lies that make up this world are being swallowed, one by one into the depths of oceans, whose streams are made of consciousness; a consciousness as a sort of unending awakening. Though a gift, this realization contains the ponderousness of a titan who tenderly shatters the lethargic lovers, dreamers, with its truth.
On certain days you reach running the titan’s shadow, wait for him to turn around, as he senses the smell of unashamed, courageous uncertainty that is threaded in your knitted clothes; the ones you wear when your name’s phosphorescence, faintly gleams in the lists of tomorrows –parties– of routine driven animals, dancing to shallow sounds of nothingness.
I too, must confess, like chasing titans. I like the feasibility of an acted morning/evening death, between cups of coffee, or bourbon shots. And I like the only demand of this act: withdrawal from the front line of imposed existence. Was I asked if I liked the bonus falls that follow daydreaming? Was I asked if I wanted to meet you, or them?
To be honest, what my childish firmness is most fond of, is the feeling of being dragged to the bottom of the ocean, by waves bigger than me, and rising up, with bruised skin, looking for my clothes, trying to catch my breath, as the most thundering and sincere laughter of survival, and joy, leaves my chest. A laughter resembling a roar, a deafening roar, a boisterous, rambunctious roar.
A real laughter that has after all, fooled the titan. So there you go, chase or fool, glorify or mock, leave your breath, or catch your breath, die in life or live in death.
Destroy the Titan.
Photography Konstantinos Kartelias