1982 - janeiro

Vestidos não choram Trabalham e ganham menos Vestidos não morrem sem lutar Vestidos são usados por mulheres Burcas são usadas por mulheres Mulheres são usadas Mulheres são mães e pais Mulheres são operárias e empregadas domésticas Mulheres são juízas Mulheres são sábias Mulheres ficam doentes quando mulheres são inocentes Mulheres são bruxas Mulheres podem ser más Mulheres podem ser mais. 08 de março 2015 Josette Lassance

eu e Fernando

DOG DESERT - Josette Lassance / tradução Fabíola Marques

It is night here in dog desert //// The wild west world, among enemies and enemies ///// it is a valley… a desert where men get lost ///// From this very place, where the sight splits up, from the view of the dry road to the cattle skull ///// The wooden ranches cut by the railroad ///// I see all the things submerse in its feelings. Things that we always profane, //// Without any tenderness, evading the bonds of the holy rituals ///// in this lost hour pieces blend and the emptiness fills the horizon ///// nothing beyond a petty life ///// of traps already set ///// 1 it´s night here in dog desert ///// not even the Jasmin shadows fall over the ground in this dry summer, of huge moons ///// where the wind brings desires ///// wild west world ///// good guys, bad guys and bad guys compensate for one another as equals ///// from this very place, we see them all under sand storms ///// to the rifles and shrapnel ///// of shotguns ///// It is night here in dog desert ///// and the day is made of dust, blood and sweat of men ///// who head to ///// a land ///// which will never have an owner, ///// it will be like the nights ///// of velvet and flesh //// among stone faunas ///// and the black sky luxuries ///// nothing will give you ties ///// where the same face can burn under either the sun or dusk //// and nothing else can be done //// we are tired of acid ///// of robot fantasies ///// we are tired of what does not mean ///// engagement ///// here it is night in dog desert ///// lost hour ///// stone hour ///// time to howl to the ashes of the moon.

I Encontro Literário 1979 Zacarias Martins e Josette (com uniforme do colégio IEP)

Café Literário 49ª Feira do Livro de Porto Alegre 2003 Josette Lassance e Dand M. (ao fundo)

Varais em Belém Guilherme Mansur e Josette Lassance

Carimbó, Lassance Maya

Gravura (nanquim), Lassance Maya, 1990.

CRÔNICAS, SONHOS & CAFÉS

Poema de Ulisses Tavares

"nada sei sobre a vidinha do pernilongo que mato indiferente na parede. mas desconfio que era a única que ele tinha"

o pássaro voa leve inteiro (nada por dentro da chuva) / R. 2007/JL

poesia & fotografia anos 2000 Josette Lassance - Flavya Mutran

"Amigos morrem, as ruas morrem, as casas morrem. Os homens se amparam em retratos. Ou no coração dos outros homens." Ferreira Gullar

pequena mostra da montanha

HAPPINESS -

Happiness ... Nobody saw me. The light would hide my face. Everything sparkled. On the walls, ideas and scribbles, always the same trips around the world. I used to look at the elephant; he carried a lamp on his back. My mother used to bring me news about her students when she came from school. I felt as if I was an orphan. The students were her children. But my mother loved me. Everyone has their way of loving. Like the elephant, who brought the electricity on his back to my father’s insomniac nights. My firs poem was full of tears. “… the living room door opened to the street, from there I saw my imaginary toys… from there the adventures seemed real”. Now I laugh about those things. Perhaps I was making drama. Perhaps it was the exaggerated sensitivity. And I also laughed, although I cried sometimes because of a scratch on my leg. From the garden stone fountain to the last flowers harvest I was always full of new stories. I dreamed about the teddy bear, fool dream of a hammerhead. My uncle coming around the corner of Friday bringing me in a pinkish package tied with thin string of a fade yellow, a plastic bear. I smiled. My uncle was my father. We could make of him whatever we wanted. The youngest one and I used to race and hide in his truck. We stole candy from his ice cream pallor and painted his face of a good man. The pictures scrawl on our stuffed memory. Like the rural houses painted blue. Happiness are small fractions which come to us in homeopathic doses, endlessly light, at tiny circumstances which sometimes we don´t even realize. Such as a good surprise in the evening, or when night falls. Happiness, de Josette Lassance, tradução de Fabíola Marques da Silva

a ponte do galo

agora mesmo passou por aqui o carroceiro - trazia garrafas tão sujas da poeira da vida - ávido pelo olhar do tempo a nuvem quase caía cinza no chão de madeira da carroça - a fêmea que apanhava era a bela e antiga - a égua branca - ela cagava sombria quase correndo por um corredor de lama - da ponte o último suspiro - pedia água à chuva - pedia sonhos aos deuses - corria pelos pântanos da noite às dores de suas coxas suadas - cansada - ferida e triste - recebia a surra merecida - agora mesmo passou por aqui o carroceiro - o chicote na mão agarrado ao fêmur da madeira - na ponte do galo há um rio que morre embaixo de suas pernas - na ponte do galo há um monte de almas penadas - agora mesmo passou por aqui o carroceiro - trazia carcaças de um portal enferrujado - da ponte do galo a chuva limpa o mundo - e nada mais se vê dessa rotina - nessa neblina imunda de injustiça. J.L. dez. 2013

moi, novembre 1963

Jorge

Josie, a caçula