---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
FROM
'WHAT YOU AND I HAVE BEEN READING' -
A PROCESS IN PROCESS
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
AS LANGUAGE. . .
Louis Dudek (Canadian poet)
From: "En Mexico". Collected Poetry. Montreal: Delta Canada, 1971.
As language. . .Silence is also a language.
When there is no order in heaven
we make what we make
by luck, or strength,
or the composition of desire.
Power grows
like vegetation,
and there are no preferences under heaven.
I do not know why a leaf should be of less worth
than a Vatican,
or why builders care.
The mathematical stones recite their logic
of cruelty and despair
we arose to gratify some searchless reason
shaping the empty air.
When there is no order in heaven
we make what we make
by luck, or strength,
or the composition of desire.
Power grows
like vegetation,
and there are no preferences under heaven.
I do not know why a leaf should be of less worth
than a Vatican,
or why builders care.
The mathematical stones recite their logic
of cruelty and despair
we arose to gratify some searchless reason
shaping the empty air.
*This is important the way I write or what I write for me depends on my feelings much more than any plan or philosophy or “logical” process toward any explication or any fixed “truth”.
Of course I have my own “world view” but do I have any clear ideas about theory or humanity or truth or whatever? All I can say is that the big questions are always there.
Their insolvability and the eternal mystery is what drives me forward.
There are no guarantees.
It seems some times listening to Bach such as BWV 248 (Christmas Oratorio) sang by Angelika Kirchslager that a window to eternity or infinity opens and I seem to be in touch with a deep beautiful mystery but life otherwise seems not to yield any clear ideas of “what it is all about”. I wish I could understand complex science or philosophy more easily.
Of course I have my own “world view” but do I have any clear ideas about theory or humanity or truth or whatever? All I can say is that the big questions are always there.
Their insolvability and the eternal mystery is what drives me forward.
There are no guarantees.
It seems some times listening to Bach such as BWV 248 (Christmas Oratorio) sang by Angelika Kirchslager that a window to eternity or infinity opens and I seem to be in touch with a deep beautiful mystery but life otherwise seems not to yield any clear ideas of “what it is all about”. I wish I could understand complex science or philosophy more easily.
---------------------------------------------------------
Bach: "Bereite dich Zion"
BWV 248; Angelika Kirchschlager; Freiburger Barockorchester
Ben cantat, però no gaire ben aplicat.
Tartuffe (Jean Baptiste Poquelin dit Molière 1622-1673 ) : Dorine, acte II, scène III, vers 552 : "Couvrez ce sein que je ne saurais voir." .
Love this! She’s an erotic looking lovely physicle whore so hot I would love to fuck - but when I listen to her she sing like angel on fire - I feel as if I am [with] God. Magnus beatus Dominum magnum sanctum aeternam est. Ad paternam aedifcium agricolas patres ab eo sunt. Requiescat cat.
Englot. – 5 weeks ago -
Liebe Frau Kirchschlager,
sie singen wunderschön, haben eine wundervolle Stimme, sie sehen blendend aus, alles passt und stimmt .... aaaber; wie kann man, in diesem Falle Sie, in einer ehrwürdigen Kirche so (nicht) würdig angezogen, mit einem tiefen Dekolleté und hoch ärmelfrei, auftreten ? Oh bitte, ein wenig Würde und würdevoller demnächst, wenn ich bitten darf !
Riech Hittlache – 10 months ago.
(Comments on YouTube on her singing the Christmas Oratorio by J S Bach BWV 248)
From: 2008 – 2009
The empty cup. The silence. The brightness.
The crunch of implication.
Piece of. The blot. Ignore it.
“…we are setting out to create new worlds, new beings, and new modes of consciousness.” Off?
The apple red and it –
“…a little vague because images always cohere. By nature, there’s a sort of magnetism.
You have an image over here, it’s going to attract or attach itself to similar images. It’s simply a matter of the way words word. There’s usually a sort of magnetism.”
The way words work. The way words work. The way words work. The way words work.
The way words work. The way words work. The way words work. The way words work.
with a furrowed visage, which as yet
could hardly be termed…
heterogenous garb…
deformity….., with so convulsive a force
a textual square reading “black block”, in which he aligns himself with Supremacist project as an artist depicting
“a model of order, even if set in a space which is full of doubt”
There are also thrice five rolls about changing forms… [Ovid in Tristia re his ‘Metamorphosis’ (in Tristia he circles around and around what we assume are the possible causes (or cause) of his exile which is never known, see these books and also Jack Ross’s EMO. But I have read both of Ovid’s great books (in translation.)]
…except by acquiescing foreboded
a textual square
Pivots on…has the spirit any place in the world?
reanimate ethical
irrespective
tentatively postulated
he moved as one moves in the queer effect of a backwards moving electric crab whose grin pierces the vast collection of glints and dints as if you had been another…
………………………………………………………………………………………………
cracked one over and over (purple AND clover)
(purple AND clover) over and over (purple AND clover)
CRACKED ONE We know you, cracked one. WE know.
Over and over and over and………………………………
cracked one over and over (purple AND clover)
(purple AND clover) over and over (purple AND clover)
CRACKED ONE We know you, cracked one. WE know.
Over and over and over and………………………………
cracked one over and over (purple AND clover)
(purple AND clover) over and over (purple AND clover)
CRACKED ONE We know you, cracked one. WE know.
Over and over and over and………………………………
cracked one over and over (purple AND clover)
(purple AND clover) over and over (purple AND clover)
CRACKED ONE We know you, cracked one. WE know.
Over and over and over and………………………………
Bleached of identity.
Night orgasmed; it wasn’t lightless its neon street lights gave out an artificial polluted light.
All the noises grew along with the silence.
About two blocks straight on, she came to a dark object. She saw that it was a tower.
Would that the gods grant me now to be my book!
Nature loves to hide.
Note: in my later “What you and I have been reading…” (Lets call it WYAIHBR) I note the sources of what I am reading. I initially wanted (for purposes of the IP) to “collage” the many fragments and in EYELIGHT I already used repetition etc etc and some was published in Ted Jenner’s edited Brief issue in 2010. However my feelings changed* and I got the idea hat the books I read could signal or “point to” ideas and thoughts that in turn could themselves generate texts and responses by any potential reader and also of course I simply love copying things out of books (many are library books some are my own copies) as I read. It (as well as other reasons) gives me pleasure in itself – the act of writing (copying though) or am I re-writing? I don’t know (maybe I am doing deconstruction? Who knows I am not completely au fait with postmodern thinking but I have picked up some of the ideas…), it is just like in some ways the pleasure I recall when I painted by numbers as a boy – I loved that, it was very exciting. But also I feel I am thus also preserving or recalling something that book. My ego also says: “Show them the extent of your reading.” But if that is all it was it would not be so good. Also I
Thus I have a structure and kind of “project” // to EYELIGHT but not necessarily and only separate (it can be both separate and a part of it also – as can the many “streams” EYELIGHT and all can (potentially) be a part of the IP. (Which is essentially a conceptual work (with various real or potential manifestations).)
*This is important the way I write or what I write for me depends on my feelings much more than any plan or philosophy or “logical” process toward any explication or any fixed “truth”. Of course I have my own “world view” but do I have any clear ideas about theory or humanity or truth or whatever? All I can say is that the big questions are always there. Their insolvability the eternal mystery is what drives me forward. There are no guarantees. It seems some times listening to Bach such as BWV 248 (Christmas Oratorio) sang by Angelika Kirchslager that a window to eternity or infinity opens and I seem to be in touch with a deep beautiful mystery but life otherwise seems not to yield any clear ideas of “what it is all about”. I wish I could understand complex science or philosophy more easily. But I also feel that by writing things out from texts (and like maybe Kenneth Goldsmith of “uncreative writing”) I could theoretically write out a whole book and use it either as a totality or as a unit. Yes I wasn’t complex “Gesumtanverk” (correct term? for Total Art?) Indeed I have been fascinated by this idea since as a teenager I dreamed, having read about Wagner, of combining Beethoven and Eliot’s The Waste Land in single work! I will expand on all this (given time and God willing if there is a God, I have no idea how this Universe came to be…) but now I date each entry and usually note text source. Before, for the IP, I wanted the very “anonymity” and of course I break lines deliberately ins some cases to enhance the “poetic” effect or the intensity (although that is not always the case). Like most writers I share a fascination with words themselves. Indeed that is a part of why I copy things. It is for me almost visceral. A sensual- intellectual experience: (but the “meaning” exactly of what I am copying isn’t necessarily of major of in many cases, ANY importance to me). The tactile and visual process of copying and writing I find wonderful (and it concentrates me at the level of the letter or at larger levels (words or phrases etc)). Also this work of copy might be seen as poem (or like the IP or EYELIGHT as poem or Total Art Work made of other smaller works that in their turn can be seen as either fragments or atoms or as a part or a (smaller) totality or an instance of the many parts…These generating meanings, or semantic forces, from their interactions as if the text was in conversation with itself, mumbling of deep meanings only comprehensible in a dream, say perhaps like Finnegans’ Wake (not that I am directly influenced by that work, great as it is, but indeed all my life I have been influenced by Joyce’s “Portrait of the Artist as Young Man”). [For now the things in italics are from Tristia by Ovid.]
_______________________________________________
========================================
"...Silence is also a language."
______________________________________________________________________
_______________________________________________
========================================
"...Silence is also a language."
==============================================================
______________________________________________________________________
Nothing touches, but, clutching, devours.
None grow rich in the sea.
Bleached of identity. The empty cup
The log.
Why did I see anything?
FRIENDLY BUYING ATMOSPHERE
Why did I make my eyes so guilty?
Why did I so guilty make my eyes?
Why did I my eyes so guilty make?
Why guilty my eyes did so make?
Why did I my guilty eyes make so?
Why so make did guilty my eyes?
Why so why so why so why so why so..............?
Why so why so why so why so why so..............?
WHY HIS EYE
WHY?
WHY???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ??????????????????????????? ??????????????????????????????????????????????????? ??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ??????????????????????? ?????????????????????????????? ?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ???????????????????????? ??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
-----------------------------------
----------
...........................................................................................................
No comments:
Post a Comment