Translation: José Luis Rico
Ei kenenkään laituri (“No one’s pier”)
Poesia, 2014
The wind tears at the water´s surface
The traffic light holds out in the early morning rain.
What did you do
when connecting to the surroundings got harder?
Did you wear a raincoat?
Did you get over your fondness
or did it rise to your skin like a mist?
Did you set the boat back on the water
although it was November and men had
already hauled it up for the winter?
I recall there was milk up to my ankles in the room
I tried to lie in it but it didn’t cover me
When the bond to the humane got pretty
inexistent,
did you drink from a puddle?
Humans rot far faster than plastic bags
On windy nights plastic bags rustle against each other
in satisfaction
Ihmeellistä käyttäytymistä. Poesia, 2020
Contagion
Just like cake is the symptom of a party, the lighthouse
is the symptom of impending
open-sea catastrophes.
Its gleam is the night’s most regular
most indelible surprise.
You must use it for orientation
but don’t draw too near, not all the way.
The lighthouse is the symptom of an itinerary.
It’s the epidemic’s hope come true:
those who find their way
spread a certain doom.
Northern
Most of the time
hairless mammals
must seek cover from plain air
and make do without peonies.
Geological eras make no distinction
don’t ask around who’s hungry
whose fault what kind of skirt who was
in silent communion with their god
or who made a living as a groundwork contractor.
In Kainuu county the digital thermometer
switched to Fahrenheit degrees.
Press Release from the Treetops
On account of my middle-class milieu, idealism’s
general shallowness, and the planet’s
ecological situation I refuse to descend
to Southern Finland anymore.
all winter in the summer cottage // regional political
contemporary poetry// freedomandflippingout zipper-
andespionage // last bonfires keep on burning
// come and get me if you have a UN mandate
Press Release from the Treetops
The system ain’t broken, cus the system
keeps on stinking good.
Study
Places loved ones
never visit,
where the fabric of
secrecy holds sway.
A powerless room,
a boat in the rain,
powerless boat,
a room in the rain,
hotels that are too expensive.
At the empire’s edge
the tent flutters in the wind.
Raisa Marjamäki (b. 1987) is a poet, translator, and publisher. Raisa has studied theoretical subjects at the Universities of Helsinki, Jyväskylä and St. Andrews, and practical crafts at Rypysuo in Kuopio and Ristijärvi in Kainuu. Raisa’s first book Katoamisilmoitus (Palladium Kirjat, 2010) combines poetry and photo collage, while the second collection Ei kenenkään laituri (Poesia 2014) was made entirely without computers, and letterpress-printed by the author. The third collection Ihmeellistä käyttäytymistä (Poesia 2020) is a contemporary poem about regional politics. The chapbook Viimeinen talvi (2021) contains poems written in Scotland and an essay on the locality of language. Raisa is currently writing a dissertation on semiocide, the knowledge of poetry and the relationship between oral and written expression.
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