Sunday, November 29, 2009

Sky Tremor by Huidobro

trs. Tony Frazer: http://www.fascicle.com/issue03/poems/huidobrosingle.htm

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Concentration of "aahhrrrrr"

All is abstract
you do not need to insist
it simply is

Red is abstracted
is abstraction
of
R
E
D

R is
concentration of ahhrrr
from sound
which is
of necessity
always contextual

else without

proper ear
proper throat
proper mouth
lips
tongue
teeth

proper t
teh

proper
meaning

Continu
E
D

distinction

the human mouth...so limited in its "animal" capacities as to argue for its use as a tool only for sound and sex...in short, pleasure or displeasure (as the case may be).

dog, cat, baboon, horse, etc., have a mouth so encompassing in its capacities not only for eating but for fighting--teeth for cutting; jaw strength for snapping bones...in short a tool for survival.

this is perhaps a clue...one is used for "maybe"; one is used for "be".

Assertions by Negatives

The Emptiness of Human Being
William Bronk

Not long, but it isn't anyway
determined by the interval: we mourn,
maybe, the brevities, as much as to say
form were the enemy--the length of form--
to hide from ourselves, of course from ourselves,--who else?--
that emptiness of content length couldn't fill
no matter how long it might be--forever if it were.

No excuses: evasions are what we try:
form as adversary or, failing form,
other divisions, assertions by negatives.
We are not this, not that.
The determined self makes be by partialness,
sets out his space, says here is truth,
is his, says less is all, defends, fades.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Saturday, November 21, 2009

I sew shroud to swaddling clothes

"Anyone home?" Nobody answers?
Here were the lives I have spent!
Fortune has gnawed away my days;
madness absconded with my hours.
Powerless to know how or where
my health and years have fled.
Missing is life, existence remains;
and everywhere calamity awaits.
Yesterday's gone, tomorrow's late,
today wastes not an instant leaving:
I am a was, a will be, a weary is.
Today, tomorrow and yesterday
I sew shroud to swaddling clothes,
and so succeed my dead self again.

-Francisco De Quevedo, trs. from the Spanish by Christopher Johnson, Fulcrum #6.