Notes
空白2023-01-22
我听见远方的雨
想象它落在大地与人们身上
像一种温柔注视，或手的轻抚倏忽间，双眼合上天空
手也消失不见
冰冷的手。最初她给我生命也贯穿我的身体：
她伸进顺从的玩偶内部
用白色棉花填满它——可是手抽出时变成了红色
握着变形的心与打结的内脏或许我想了解，哦神奇的魔法——
可以创造生命
却也令其渴望死亡
明亮的自我2023-01-19
人们常说「发现、接纳自我的黑暗面」，“Embrace your dark side”, 诸如此类。
但有时，真正令人害怕的或许是明亮，过于明亮的那一面：stellaire, solaire, la part du feu.
即使过去的回忆或痛苦是黑色，处在抑郁中的主体有更深的黑色：并不来自夜晚，也无处休息，终日被黑色的太阳照耀。
在此处，尝试接受这一切，体验那些自由、无法控制的情感、力量。当所有语言也不足以表达身体的感受，当所有动作也无法完全释放精神的张力：像是瞥见真实过于耀眼的光芒。
Emily Dickinson:
Tell all the truth but tell it slant —
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth’s superb surprise
As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind —以及再一次，雪莱的 Adonais：
The fire for which all thirst; now beams on me,
Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality.The breath whose might I have invok’d in song
Descends on me; my spirit’s bark is driven,
Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng
Whose sails were never to the tempest given;
The massy earth and sphered skies are riven!
I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar…I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar : 黑暗中的诞生。
歌唱、邀请火焰、生命的源泉是一种狂喜。然而这并非没有风险：my spirit’s bark is driven.
For the fire of life is a consuming fire.
And to live in time is to be consumed by time...Then, how do one survive this fire? I think once more of Moby Dick:
Oh, thou clear spirit, of thy fire thou madest me, and like a true child of fire, I breathe it back to thee.
L'indigestion du Mal2023-01-16
ses paroles acides remontent en reflux
à ma bouche, sa haine me brûle
et me donne mauvaise haleine.je crache alors ce feu en friche, je gueule
comme un chien éperdu, et je vous retourne enfin,
mesdames et messieurs, vos chères dégueulasseries.
Definitions against poetry2023-01-15
A voice reads itself out loud from
a memory of lost harmonics :
it is not satisfaction of a desire,
but the desire itself that is lacking...
could one desire to desire?
could one sing in the absence of oneself, unaware, unknown?
but then, what is speech, what are those sounds,
rage, loss, murdered revenge?
I would read myself to sleep, or death
or indifference, when no one hears for
I say that conversation is promise-making:
how they profer, as if language is free,
all those wonderful things: I need you,
I will be with you,
I love you…
and what should I call this void,
this emptiness of my self-same conversation,
this monologue that I have become, this eternal soliloquy?
here promises break down, even despair depletes…
one feels nothing,
desires nothing,
is nothing:
nothing that still speaks,
nothing that is,
is speaking,
is,
as it is as nothing is and breaks:
as if oneself.
a difference of language would kill me...2022-12-31
“…I cannot understand the gospel; between us there is a difference of language that, if I were to understand it, would kill me.”
And that is how it always is with “the poet” in relation to the gospel; for him it is the same with respect to the gospel’s words about being a child. “Oh, would that I were a child,” says the poet, or “Would that I were like a child, ‘Alas, a child, innocent and happy’ — alas, I have prematurely become old and guilty and sorrowful!”.
The Lily of the Field and the Bird of the Air, Soren Kierkegaard
Fire, Rock2022-12-31
But his word was in mine heart as a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I was weary with forbearing, and I could not stay.
— Jeremiah 20:9Is not my word like as a fire? saith the Lord; and like a hammer that breaketh the rock in pieces?
— Jeremiah 23:29VI
The rock cannot be broken. It is the truth.
It rises from land and sea and covers them…It is the rock of summer, the extreme,
A mountain luminous half-way in bloom
And then half way in the extremest light
Of sapphires flashing from the central sky,
As if twelve princes sat before a king.VII
Far in the woods they sang their unreal songs,
Secure. It was difficult to sing in face
Of the object….— Credences of Summer, Wallace Stevens