Guernica Editions

Mary Melfi's poem and prose pieces seem to arise from the same isolation, solitude or loneliness which is the foundation of her psyche; a self-contained, closed world the rules of which are unique, similar to no one else's, rules which follow the logic of dreams and not that of public wakefulness. The words and sentences in her poems are compromises between the inexpressible and the accepted usage of words and sentences, whereby facts and desires, sights and insights, the external and the internal reality are fused. It is the entangled, mysterious twilight-world of the Jungle, impenetrable, yet swarming with life. -- Robert Zend

Why the dead are God's underwear,/ the mountains are his dresses/ and the rivers are his shoes./ God cuts a good figure on earth.

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