Helena Pantsis



Bright Star

After John Keats hanging alone in the night, we long to hear your breath once more hanging alone in the night, we long to hear your breath once more hanging alone in the night, we long to hear your breath …

Posted in 121: NO THEME 15 | Tagged

On My Body As Proof

I eat paintings, ingesting masterpieces so they won’t fade, eternally preserved in the gut of me. I scrape paint chips from my molars. a field of grass or a sombre lady imprinting on my skin from the inside out; you …

Posted in 110: POP | Tagged

bodily (ab)normalities

my body is plumbed, a vertical wasteland, comparable to a compressed chest, some grey weight cloudy and sleepless, against the gut which breathes of its own accord. a picture of health three tablets a day, my mother’s grip around my …

Posted in 109: NO THEME 12 | Tagged

Your father’s tie / has been untied.

Your father’s tie has come undone. Please tie his tie. Your father is unravelling, please take his hand and tie his tie. Your father is a machine. He is an engineer, he wears a dust coat and high-vis colours. Your …

Posted in 108: DEDICATION | Tagged