A piece of head
still emits the line of action
of thought,
and the circuit of the day
ever shorter
and faster --- connected to the
metaphorical spill
between four walls,
searching for the crack
that swallows the air dry.
The chopped-up passage
to be mended on the other side
dependent, expectant
and subject to drifting
in the day that has not yet ended
(the indigestible day that engenders
the tortuous night).
The pain of the fixed idea
interrupting the line of sleep.
First, dotting it
with images, then ----
drastically, directly
directly into the brain compressed
by the bedroom walls,
phosphorescent reverberation.
Post scriptum
ResponderExcluirIt is remarkable, writes André Breton in his pamphlet entitled
ResponderExcluirFlagrante Delito:
that without having corrected themselves in the slightest, all the truly qualified critics of our time have been led to demonstrate that the poets whose influence is currently most vivid, whose effect on modern sensibility is most felt (Victor Hugo, Nerval, Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Mallarmé, Alfred Jarry) have been, to a greater or lesser extent, marked by this tradition. It is not that we should see them as "initiates" in the full sense of the term, but both of them at least felt this attraction strongly and never ceased to show it the greatest deference. What is more, it would seem specifically that without having it in mind in any way, and while abandoning themselves in complete solitude to their inner voices, they happened to "recover" this TRADITION, to insist on it in another way. It would be necessary to understand beforehand that poets are nourished, without knowing it, by a source common to all men, a source of life and inexhaustible psychic energy where the remains and products of ancient cosmogonies ferment and are endlessly remade.
In fact, I started very young; then, seeing the difficulties of publishing, I dedicated myself to making magazines to publish my work. I was never interested in publishing, but rather in doing, like that English nobleman who wrote his poems on cigarette paper and then smoked them, exclaiming: "The interesting thing is to create them." A person never dedicates himself to poetry. Poetry is something more mysterious than dedication, because I can tell you that when my father died, I was eight years old, and this absence made me hypersensitive to the presence of an image. This event was so moving for me that, from an early age, I realized I was very sensitive to what was and what was not, to the visible and the invisible. I always expected something, but if nothing happened, then I realized my waiting was perfect and that this empty space, this inexorable pause, I had to fill with what, over time, became the image. That's why poetry has always been experiential for me, around a pause, a murmur, the novel image was forming; I was reconstructing through the image the remains of lost planets, of indecipherable hums.
ResponderExcluirLEZAMA LIMA
For the "second" Heidegger, being is a kind of illumination of language; not of scientific language, which constitutes reality to exploit it, but a being that inhabits poetic and creative language, in which it can be commemorated, that is, remembered together, so as not to allow it to fall into oblivion. Being is not presented as any entity, neither the principle of entities, nor the ground of reality. Nor is it something ineffable, for it is what makes language possible, being responsible for humankind's ability to speak about things. (...) Essential thinking would be the thinking that "plays" with being and reflects on it, simultaneously making it emerge.
ResponderExcluirWhen reading a work of LITERARY ALCHEMY, we not only read it with the dictionary at hand and a structuralist network of other reference texts, we read from the understanding of the Spirit, from the memory of the Imagination.
ResponderExcluir(...)
I had long boasted of possessing all possible landscapes, and I considered the celebrities of modern painting and poetry to be derisory.
.............................................................................................................................................................................................. I invented the color of vowels! - A black, E white, I red, O blue, U green. I regulated the shape and movement of each consonant, and, with instinctive rhythms, I boasted of having invented a poetic verb accessible, one day or another, to all the senses. It was up to me to translate them. It was an experiment at first. I wrote silences, nights, I wrote down the inexpressible. He fixed me with vertigo."
- Alchemy of the Word, by Arthur Rimbaud (1854-1891) - trans. Paulo Hecker Filho
(...)
Nothing other than this continuous roll of paper.
ResponderExcluirThe texts of our work proliferate without beginning or end like a plague, reproducing and expanding in unpredictable directions. They are the product of a hybridization of many different registers that have nothing to do with traditional literary evolution. Their different elements ignore the progression of the narrative and appear adrift, disrupting conventional discourses and script-games of their temporal frameworks, their spatial coexistence, their pasteurized meaning and predictability, always allowing the reader to ultimately structure the great underlying hypertext according to their own will.
This search, in which the tension between reason and religious transcendence translates into a less than reassuring way of proceeding with language and thought, presents itself as deliberate in our work.
ResponderExcluirMethods of intensification through dismantling: Burroughs read Joyce with the eyes of someone who never stops searching for another way of thinking, thus extracting intertextual geometries that went far beyond literary verbal expression or any interest restricted to that realm. If the surrealist method sought to create a new link for associations with automatic or mediumistic writing, Burroughs's methods break every link, every association, every pre-established line of association to rescue intact the PRIMORDIAL IMAGINATION buried under multiple geological layers of false, academically and socially imposed chains of association.