Joyce Mansour's "Screams" was first published in France in 1953. In a time when feminism was in its nascent stage, and explicit sexuality was taboo, Mansour's violent eroticism, and poetic mastery were shocking. In "Screams" Mansour breaks open the female wound--and women's rage, ecstacy, and pain came forth in sharp piercing cries. Until now, American readers have not had access to this powerful erotic text. Translated by Serge Gavronsky, "Screams" is a must for anyone interested in the feminist dimension of the Surrealist movement.
Joyce Mansour was born Joyce Patricia Adès in Bowden, England to Jewish-Egyptian parents. After a month in Cheshire her parents returned with her to Cairo where she lived until she was twenty. Moving to Paris in 1953 she became one of the best known Surrealist poets, authoring sixteen books of poetry, as well as a number of important prose and theater pieces.
" Men's vices are my domain Their wounds my sweet desserts I love to chew on their vile thoughts For their ugliness makes my beauty"
" You were comfortably seated On a black bear. You were tearing out pieces of skin With your brilliant fingers against a bloody sky And while you were creating a new world It snowed"
"I like to play with little things Pink unborn things beneath my eyes' madness I scratch I sting I kill I laugh Dead things no longer move And I regret my feverish madness I pity my degenerate parents I'd like to erase the blood from my dreams By annihilating maternity"
Erotisme violence morbide choquant hallucinations délire macabre incandescence blasphème mort horreur mutilation obscénité folie .. voilà quelques mots clés de l'univers poétique surréaliste de Joyce Mansour.
"Lèvres acides et luxurieuses Lèvres aux fadeurs de cire Lobes boudeurs moiteurs sulfureuses Rongeurs rimeurs plaies coussins rires Je rince mon épiderme dans ces puits capitonnés Je prête mes échancrures aux morsures et aux mimes La mort se découvre quand tombent les mâchoires La minuterie de l’amour est en dérangement Seul un baiser peut m’empêcher de vivre Seul ton pénis peut empêcher mon départ Loin des fentes closes et des fermetures à glissière Loin des frémissements de l’ovaire La mort parle un tout autre langage .. Oublie-moi Que mes entrailles respirent l’air frais de ton absence Que mes jambes puissent marcher sans chercher ton ombre Que ma vue devienne vision Que ma vie reprenne haleine Oublie-moi mon Dieu que je souvienne." Cris