Béatrice (Anne-Marie, Marie-Jeanne) Machet is a French born poet, living between France and the USA, whose dance lessons as a child influenced and still influence her writing. As a teen she learned a lot from the Native American point of view about Native American history and Native cultures, until she felt impregnated with them. After having been involved in the French science-fiction milieu, flirting with cartoons and magazines such as Actuel, Charlie Hebdo, Fluide Glacial, she met Jean-Hughes Malineau, a Gallimard editor, who encouraged her to begin a career as a poet. From this initial meeting, each published poetry book of hers will testify to an evolution in her writing practice. Since 2016, she is an active member of the sound poetry group Ecrits Studio (ecritsstudio.fr). At her credit some 15 books and 30 chapbooks of poetry (three of them in English) plus 7 Native American poets’ collections she translated into French, and four anthologies gathering 40 Native American contemporary poets whom works she translated into French.
She is used to collaborating with artists from all kinds of disciplines such as painters, sculptors, musicians, composers, video-makers, dancers and choreographers, and with whom she performs her poetry. She is on editorial boards of French poetry magazines such as Recours au poème, Sur le dos de la tortue, Les cahiers d’Eucharis.
She is regularly granted writer residences, is regularly invited in international poetry festivals in France and abroad. She leads creative writing workshops, is called for teaching and performing in schools and colleges. She gives lectures and conferences about contemporary Native American literature. She also launched and created Radio cultural programs, poetry oriented, from 1984 to 1986 and from 2018 to nowdays. She is responsible of and produces a monthly radio program (Radio Agora, Grasse) dedicated to contemporary poetry.
TRANSVERSATION
BEATRICE
OK Kit, yes count me in, I'm willing to make this experimental collaboration
you wrote about.
Looking forward to hearing from you soon with the
first proposition of our "chat-transversation"
KIT
The
first thing I want to say is that it’s not just okay for us to misinterpret/misunderstand each other through this
process - it’s essential!
…
so
please allow me to serve
these
words first words
in
view of / in lieu of the rules
(and
there are none)
but
for instance
how
many bounces are required/permitted
each
side of the net?
and
shall we run away with it?
(has
all sorts of other uses)
fish
for instance
or
insects
the
net the fish the dish with the spoon
is
it a special thing this
carrying
across
?
or
everyday ordinary
words
anyone would use
?
more
of a question than a proposition
always
at the horizon
biding
the moment
a
silence from the words
get
the picture?
but
vanishing into another genre
one
loves a fairytale
Beatrice
Ainsi tu m’écris qu’au menu :
des premiers mots
et après le repas
descendre au rez-de-jardin
pour que d’autres rebondissent au-dessus du filet
façon ping-pong
que
chaque coup de raquette ainsi que la navette
envoie la
balle aux mots tisser
une robe
de fée
très
bien parfait
mais n’y a-t-il pas tromperie au
contrat ?
(par ailleurs non signé !)
tu dis un horizon de questions en
matière de proposition …
Est-ce bien soulever cette façon
de verser ?
cette manière de trans ?
afin
comme écrit sur l’écran
de « run away with it
… the net the bounce the
words »
now ours précises-tu
à cette heure je les prends au
bond
réseau toile fish insects couleurs
et brush strokes
pour donner de l’espace
pour donner du volume à la parole
prise dans les mailles du silence
tel est le véritable canevas
la seule valeur du tableau
ce que nous apprend la poésie
au long d’une vie
qui aime
l’inattendu …
one loves the « unheard-of
music »
KIT
post
prandial so snooze
spread
breath
midstwith
and
under ink
worn till wisp was cloud
someone
had an autumn yellow
can’t
have been from here
what’s frayed gone compost
it’s so far back in the dream
can still touch
though the story’s lost
no one knows how
Trumpery!
the
Age of the Lie … and fresh material every day
truth
trashed is where we live now
a
kind of rout of the spirit
how
can we have retreated so far?
it’s
garden in
the
ping pong round us
everyone’s
visiting
trees
lean in
for
conversation
the leafed tree in its autumn turning
not of these parts
yet our sun keeps faith
so that it shows
late into afternoon
light of its other world
BEATRICE
Suite épisode 2
Béatrice 05/28/2020
Car tout commence à une table
everything begins at a table
including snoozing
c’était une petite sieste just
a little nap
just
like that
without even snaping the fingers
just dozing off
et bing …
tu te retrouves au pays de la Trumpery
el extraño mundo de las mentiras globalizadas
Ô mensonges de mes rêves quel délice
tendus entre printemps
finissant et automne jauni
dites-moi sur quelle planète on vit !
Edward who goes by Ed est à Moscou et donne des
conférences
Bradley-Chelsea survit entre genres
et tentative de suicide
Julian pourrit à Belmarsh
ils ont « « répandu un
souffle »
they spread breath through a whistle…
un grand vent force trans-
versation et vers et
vérité if any
gale force-8
a windblast
then…
Avec le temps et l’imagination
le jardin du ping pong devient bois
entre les arbres courbés (under
what yoke)
et les feuilles prêtes à nourrir le
compost
les espoirs se fortifient de rumeurs
around us les lumières
the many lights of a Sherwood-like
Forest
one loves the reality of another possible world
KIT
quels
idiots ont donné à ces gens une statue
pour
qu'ils se sentent bien dans leur peau?
America’s dancing on its own grave
big belly laugh
bingeing again
nobody does this stuff nearly as well
America, you’ve elected Grim Reaper
except not really – skip college, count the votes
in the catatombs with President Virus
never gets up from the couch except golf
was it childhood?
something since?
let me get the latest firearm
(God, gave me this right)
still only so many feet to shoot
well, why not make them dance?
make it another big budget western
high noon saloon swagger
now they’re burying burying burying
and this time it’s your own again
must have a talent for it
get in their way and you go in the ground
it’s breathless there with progress
and you can hear the rust
they’ve put Cretan liar in charge of the truth
things could go either way
Liberty wears Justice’s blindfold
better not look at all
you’re more incarcerated than ever
the facts of the matter are locked up as well
with Julian and Chelsea
and old Joe Hill
my, what long long arms you have
better to be great powerful friend
and shall we say set free?
oh say can you see!
stand on a man’s neck till he’s dead
that’ll show who doesn’t matter
how’s your Mall of America now?
I call that kind of thing kindling
we’re expecting a shake in California
New York’s come down with it’s-not-the-flu
I was in the woods with Thoreau
once FDR and turn on a dime
fire some rockets into space
no one will feel a thing
I, too, have lived in that box
with
the colours
pizza delivered, jazz on demand
I understand the genius
took the pill to uncrazy a little
been sorry for myself ever since
and sorrier again
let it not be as long as Rome was
Napoleon was a flash in the pan
you’re like every empire ever
none of the rest of us are
America, when will you ever be worthy
of this decline and fall ?
BEATRICE
Speaking of Dancing On Graves...
What stupid people elected this
« god with us » young guy to represent
France
and its spirit forged by the hammer of
liberté-égalité-fraternité ?
En ce qui concerne les tombes
la plus profonde et qui se creuse encore
est celle réservée à
la démocratie.
Emmanuel portant le nom de Macron
se croit grand
comme se croyait grand le roi français ayant
contribué
à l’indépendance de l’Amérique.
Pourtant il faut lire
et comprendre micron …
Soit grandeur à la puissance dix MOINS six
c’est-à-dire en dessous de tout
in other words the
lowest of the low…
Au final s’écrit
une histoire de comment
la technocratie
remplace
la
vision par la gestion …
En guise de président
celui qui répond au poème
d’une jeune touriste anglaise
par un autre poème
celui-là même répond aux gilets
jaunes par des tirs :
L(anceur)-B(alle)-D(éfense)
la nouvelle arme pour se débarrasser
de manifestants plaidant la cause
des pauvres ….
Just get
rid of them… Flash Ball … fire
ou bien étouffez les
suffoquez les
suffit d’un genou appuyé sur la nuque
suffit d’un bras qui étrangle le cou
la liste des des morts est longue
en France :
Balou Troré Abou Bakari Lamine Dieng Elmi Mohammed
etc
Adelakim Ajimi Abdoulaye Fofana etc etc
etc etc etc Amadou Koumé
… et se finit par George Floyd in America.
Avec les larmes et l’indignation vient aussi
l’envie de chanter
poing gauche levé…
Allons
enfants de la patrie
le jour
de se mobiliser
est
arrivé
organisons
la décroissance
qu’un
air pur enfin puisse
gonfler
nos poumons !
Et si vous n’êtes pas français reste quand
même :
« This is the final struggle / Let us group
together and tomorrow / The Internationale / Will be the human race. »
KIT
we
just don’t see the prisoners of starvation so much anymore
though
I feel certain they will be coming to us on a makeshift raft before long
here’s one for my fearful leader
1
Smoko
the headsup like a transparent watch
and the workings? nothing to see here!
you
know it will spin for an exorcism
beckons the boats, come again
they are needed for miracle salvation
angels
pour out the vials of wrath
clean shaven, jaw determined
too much of the sun shines on him
Gog
and Magog, gather to battle
must
dark down in the mines
he is the saint of borders and lighting
at
the final trumpet
(third
woe, expect an earthquake then)
is a coal made man
(second
trumpet was a burning mountain)
tied to the dying animal
knows the mark, tricked his way up
the righteous one, tied of tongue else
the serpent spoke to him
when he was in the whale
it was a close thing in there
his followers at their earthworm ethics
hate your wages, love growth
coming down your chimney now
he will be your election Santa
against humanity one more crime
it’s only in a parallel universe he is
on trial
third
trumpet, wormwood falls – river is poisoned
this is in no particular order
he is the fish kill mute-the-truth
hottest of all
how wholesome when he claps along
here’s a Flood (note Fish), he’s a
Gulliver
dragging their boats back
but they have no home! no matter
must smite to show that might is right
The
Lamb & His Company
at
the sign of the Lion
is first among sinners, does the
rapture rise
defends the flock from ravening
he is a mouth full of meat pie
shepherd for pastor, soul of dust
king of the greedy, defender of their
faith and fate
like kith and …his the gift of the
party room
he will always have been the thirtieth
when this world is a frizzled wreck
there’s nothing we can do about it
won’t mention the Lord is with him
from
the seven last plagues
you
will soon receive a franking credit
it
will be negatively geared
Jesus loves how he can’t sing
with
golden crowns
and
woe to gnash
he is not Styre, the Sontaran
but he paved the way
not
just his bush
but
pants on fire
he cooked the country with his books
he leads the billion from this world
he vanishes the Ark
and for
everyone who’s waiting on the line
on hold
thank you for waiting forever
it wasn't so long, was it
it wasn't so long after all
and now that your life is over
you may have tried writing a poem or a song
while you were waiting
you may have been painting or drawing
we hope you've appreciated
the musical interludes
the advice, the suggestions
we know you have doodled on a pad
your mind's wandered
there have been times you thought you were going
out of it
but you never gave up
you kept the faith
for this much thanks
please know that this message was for you
only you
thousands of years
and more lives
went to crafting these words
a language had to be invented
for that very special you
BEATRICE
|
l’idée serait de croire to believe se forger une foi inébranlable en un « Special You » à qui s’adresser afin d’acquérir la capacité de créer un langage…. (and by the way is « crafting » a
synonyme for « creating », does it stand for
« inventing ») Mais crée-t-on jamais un langage ? Et qui du langage ou de nous crée l’autre ? Les voix qu’on entend quand seul-e sur des montagnes ou lors de quêtes de vision sont-elles l’instrument du « Special You » ? Transmises sous forme de langage ces voix sonnent-elles comme les trompettes de l’apocalypse ? Mais pour quelle révélation ? : Que surnaturel à la rescousse de l’humain est
un réflexe universel ? Come to the rescue of human kind the supernatural is a universal reflexe I wonder…. and wander… And by the way Gog et Magog …. sont-ils les
ancêtres de tous les two legged démagogues qui hantent les ondes and the governments and the political
discourses ? |
I wonder…
and wander…
Je
reconnais to be honest je n’ai pas assez bien lu la bible et
ne m’en
porte pas plus mal car : pour ce que les gogs en ont fait … !
I wonder…
and wander
L’histoire
du « Special You » à prier ne m’a jamais enthousiasmée
Les
histoires de « forever in Heaven » … boring to death
and yet
when it
comes to show solidarity
then
Smoko you
are welcome
step into
my utopian landscape
which
ranks as a world
I’ll do my
best
with my
language and other food
to make
you feel at home.
KIT
For
you and William –
on a mountain out of the way
often wake
to the words
there
because
must have dreamt
in that direction
left for
crumbs to collect
for stones
to shine
in the
night
so to say
I follow
phrases down into the page
improvise
just on this theme
titles
could come in anywhere
because
the poem won’t yet know
if it’s beginning or ever will
were words
there already?
come
steady from the rain as well
sometimes
I come in with them dripping
even
ironic sunshone
I work the
shadows for a doubt
find a
self folded into the text
also
always there already
that’s the
voice to run
ask
is
it crafting to invent
is
invention crafting?
crafty
merely?
all
movements of the hand are sleight
on a
mountain out of the way
or tucked
in the river run gully
how are
your trees, all looking up
how much reception
there?
say
legerdemain
leisure
demands this much of us
hermits
always go better together
a mountain
woods them
cosy home
to make
the mantras light
and
everything is further now
how are
your mists, all summer said?
here, let
me imagine all
acres of
tucked
up out of
sight
when will autumn
come the hill?
and find
you hale
and much
survived
creature
it till then
be safe
unseen
and listen
in
let
breezes freshen
be far
from the trouble
see up in
the singing
be well
take
breath from
put leaves
on
shake the
dust off
give the
world this hearthold
each for
other there
I know the
words will find you
and the
wordlessness as well
BEATRICE
Sunrise
like a
slap in the face
the river cold water
like a
blow through the guts
these are certainties I
live with/by/of
demanding
I react
so I wave
yes-ing
to this new day
no words
yet
my only
skin to drum a rhythm
as blood
runs its fury for me
to
be awakened
I’m
aware
I can
breathe … no mask on my nose…
no
suppression no
frustration
at whose expense ?
What
humanity is stolen
What
visibility is given back from the music I hear
from the
shock I feel seeing
Remember this one ?
|
yet I can breathe
a
big help conditioning any anxiety
when rays of moon and stars scratch the daydream sky
still no
words
just
slant stories playing their tricks
just
senses traping my tongue not
willing
for me to speak
after the
end of the world
when I can’t breathe
a kind of drought nobody can survive
unless a storm of words waters the earth
floods hearts
till
these two : légers demains
like
sleight of hands
transform quench and
ask
isn’t
your body a miracle ?
KIT
un bal masqué
Voici venir le temps de croisades
– Robert Desnos
tels
que ce monde
qui
était ce masque?
(je
veux demander qui porte le masque)
mais
oui
c’est
le miracle moi-toi
les
orteils leur propre couleur
les
poumons font leur travail
dans
le dictionaire cette demi-vie
le
type d’un isotope radioactive
mais
plus court
beaucoup
plus court
joindre
des points pour un conte de fées
le
genre dans lequel personne ne peut vivre
derrière
le miracle une question
et
nous sommes plus petits que ça
timide
à demander
lentement
et lentement
d’autres
mots s’inscrire
nous
faison leurs excuses
nous
disons l’heure
nous
faisons les vieux trucs
mots
maladroit
pas
assez de grammaire
mots
cachés derrière plus de mots
on
ne sait jamais jusqu’où
autrefois
c’était le visage
une
forêt courverte
et
c’était pareil avec la mer
aussi
loin que le rêve
bas
et bas
la
chute familière
nous,
nous tous, avons brillé
de
la pluie
le
feu était un visage
que
nous avons fait vouloir tout
et
c’est un petit vent qui se lève
rideaux
invisible
et
derrière eux
secrets
de nous-mêmes
des
choses simples
dit
jusqu’à ce qu’ils soient vrais
d’ici
là bien
sûr
on ne peut
rien y faire
un sujet se dit jusqu’à ce qu’il soit parti
un trébuchement de mots en erreur
les erreurs ne pardonneront jamais
je veux dire toutes sortes d’autres-choses
ici à la place
où personne n’écoute
personne ne peut savoir ce que nous voulons dire
(est-ce que c’est comme ça dans ta poésie?
il faut encore que quelqu’un
suive la faille
à travers le miroir
oui
c’est ça
cependant,
le coeur peut devenit fou
tricherie
piquant
je
chuchote dans une langue brisée
il
n’y a pas d’autre moyen d’être à la maison
je
demande
qui
est derrière tout ça
BEATRICE
« Il y a beau jour que tout le monde sait
que l'homme descend du singe, mais on le cacha longtemps pour ne pas humilier
ce dernier. » -- Robert Desnos
« It’s been some time already
since everybody knows that human beings descend from monkeys, but it was kept
hidden for a long time in order not to humiliate the latter. »
Connecting the dots …
of a subject
and as any subject
we weren’t born as such
we become
along … a long process
of being and behind
du pointillé à la
ligne
un sujet
comme n’importe lequel
ne naît pas
sujet
il le
devient
un long procédé d’évolution
avec
derrière
influences education
manipulations propaganda ….
« Mais aujourd’hui c’est
aujourd’hui »
Et sans vouloir dire
personne pour savoir ce qui se cache derrière un masque …
And without willing to see
nobody would know what’s
hidden in front of eyelids…
only shadows
that’s what mirors are
whether crack, hairline fracture or fault line in them
the reflection is missing …
but meetings are little
secrets of our own …
« A la devanture de la
boutique
une jolie femme sourit »
just a dummy
and today the only gift of a
false smile
a blank eye
a void of meaning
won’t make my day
and if words are bound to
fail
what’s left through a
filtered voice
altered by accidentals ?
un temps pour les croisades you
said
and I add un temps de
mascarades
could that do as a poetic
practice ?
But the P word never fossilized
let it multiply itself
let it go viral…
just like this :
une pincée de sel (ajouté) au présent
arraché à la
mer
une pincée de sel (futur) sur l’écume
qui dentelle
le sable
une pincée de sable salé échappé des mains
mesurant le temps de l’oubli
une pincée soudaine de vague
à l’âme granuleuse
… Ici à la place où personne n’écoute …
a dash of salt added to present
(tense)
torn from the sea
a dash of salt to be on foam (future)
lacing the sand
a dash of salty sand flowing down
from hands
measuring time of oblivion
a dash of blues coming out of the blue
a wave of salty-sandy-grainy melancholy
KIT
Apologies
to be slow again Beatrice …
Have been
on the road (unusually, for these times) … but I think you have too
So anyway –
I’m back right now but off to Sydney in a few hours … so I’ll probably end up
finishing this turn there…
prosopopeia
this living
is an art of masks
a day to
day deep
in the
teddy bear woods
or are they
the woods where things have no name
whatever…
they happened while I was sleeping
I think guess wonder
no blue bolt
no lake sword
shoulder tap rise
looked in the machine
but nothing
it was with first light as well
or in a moment’s meditation
I give the glee
some glisten with
come choral and accompaniment
woke up in the new world
a spin and roundabout
three times for the spell
do a little dance
ce qui se cache,
ici?
c’est moi
dashing and
prancing away
there’s no way I’m alone in this
it must have happened to you
I live in a clock for words
you must be the mirror
we are together so
just here hello
the poet, the translator
spin pyxis
let the seasons dance
shall we take a run through the topics?
a wheel’s worth
first live the fire
be friends with
worldly
days of a vanish
drag out the tune
flower until and after
are they the same bees now?
symposium cartwheel
nothing taboo
it’s the undiscovered country
where we leave out a word like heart
and the crows come
you must show
day honey lit
a sky in glow
call consequence
where I’m begun
horror for the little ones
because we feel their loss
so many tight deaths
our swing through the branches
now monkey bars
say love and throw philosophy
just as who’d have guessed (?)
let seasons dance
take truth, then which?
the flimsy dream come lit
you are making this in a looking glass
looking for lines to burn
lonely to flit the sea
where none make offering
take medley
tie me to the mast
and tickle
vice and a versa
come breathlessly
chase dragonflies out of the poem
let the seasons dance
do flowers towards Maying
my spring your autumn of course
come chorus, after me
where there are more words
where there are too few
out of the oven
or is it the fridge?
now upside down
light sprinkle
hear the undertick
sparks rise like bees
from the year’s last pile
high as Jupiter
and Mars up now
these to a frogsworth chorus
your face in the shallows
pond moon reflecting
crescent, half
a silence only grows
and after
let this new life breathe
these lines
must hear them sing
you must be the mirror
I live in a clock for words
BEATRICE
On its
mondane side
which is
also a wild cruel side
this
living is an art of masks
cette
vie est un art à démasquer…
(unmasking
here stands for deconsctruction)
behind and
beyond
on a day
to day basis …
this
unveiling process happened when you were sleeping
and the
nightmare unfolds and goes this way :
this living….is an art of frenetic
irrational
measures
when an alleged epidemic is turned
into a state of panic
what would tell the Teddy bear in the
woods about his sense of exception ?
would he wash his hands very
often ?
would he cover his mouth and nose
when sneazing ?
what would say a mask about a viral
pandemia of
biological computer-like creatures
proving to be grim executioners
of a wartime mobilization—and
we
at least both
maybe all
know it means
coercion
punishment
human sufferings—whatnots
of the kind and
there’s no way we are alone in this…
Still the
undiscovered world of Onceuponatime
a
poem-like universe where every line
takes you
on an adventure ride
without
even needing to rime
A world
where ABCs play and hold ignorance prisoner
where
knowledge and wisdom can’t be censored
even
though to read is to be complicit of a kind of lie
since it’s
a mere reflection under the shed light of a book
because
eyes because brains because hearts
when to
read is to be alone whereas being together
no other
way than this (one)
hopefully
temporarily
KIT
a
thousand pardons… I had it in my head it was your turn… I think this is a
result of movement …
and since
our last encounter here, the monster sits sulking in his golf cart because not
enough of the monsters loved him… what will they do with all that hate?
so many
epidemics !
we’ll
never tear off these masks!
I have
been making poems for what I call
the Cretan
Liar series
here’s a version of one –
attending
an exorcism from what’s a safe distance
casting an ostrakon for or against
this long suspicion the world was mad
so many vote for the novelty
it’s as if they had a choice between still water
and fizzy poison
and found it so hard to decide …
everyone’s upset with the outcome
but it’s just where we are
little skeletons dance out of the cupboard
cranks and conspiracists
it’s Halloweeen continued
now heavily armed
(twice as many Republicans have guns)
tell the truth and shame…
you think of putting the devil in hell
but some of us have read the Decameron
here’s Rupert Murdoch commanding the orcs
and what bad teeth they all have !
(no insurance… can’t afford it)
a dance with … whom?
let’s check your card
is that really your signature
and are you who you are?
Do you remember Get Smart!...
the possible is happening again
it is an expanding circle
not what you think
this must be the work of Kaos
must lower the cone of silence now
what’s the etiquette for
stuffing that jinnee back in the bottle?
we’re just finding the lost stopper
it’s somewhere
is there a gaol built will hold the arch fiend?
think of Elba always
the ice is under the last circle
here’s Grumpy frozen in forever there
it’s a lot like a birth
at the end of the second day of the exorcism
always busy
demons running hither and yon
in my best scratchy sherd voice
what oratory!
what tricks!
and rigged!
with somersaults!
chicanery!
too many exclamation marks
breathless thing and the heart often stops
it’s we’ve just been too nice to these devils
take the top off a carrot
see the steam pour out
keep saying Santa
keep saying God
say communist – it’s worked before
could be a long time sleeping this off
for perversity, just check out the markets
farce on a tragedy sandwich
might never wake up at all
did someone mention they’re dropping like flies?
the lie once swallowed
a long time digesting
can give it and give it again
the volume’s as high as it goes
never even called a priest
BEATRICE
A priest you said …
is it
because all dreams lie dead ?
Remember : « Whenever one drifted petal leaves the
tree-
Though white of bloom as it had been before
And proudly waitful of fecundity-
One little loveliness can be no
more » (Dorothy Parker)
A priest you said …
isn’t he
the one thriving on a web of lies ?
As if
any question entails fibs and falseness
when it
comes to answering it
Lies and their many
nuances-shades-tones-hints-touches … make such a beautiful
picture !
Lies and their many
motives-reasons-causes-legal grounds … make such a pleasant symphony !
Lies … just the way the fridge lets
me think there are birds inside it.
Lies … because a word isn’t what it
points at
and
over all when it’s a word standing for a sensation …
nevertheless
a single word can awake hundreds of sensations
what would a priest prescribe
entangled in a pack of lies
but pretend sensations are body-lies
…
All this makes no head nor tail
so to make a long story short
my dear
we agree on the farce and tragedy
we agree
on the safe distance from which
to doubt
about any exorcism to be successfully performed !
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