Sunday, October 31, 2010

Two Ensigns of Poignancy from 1918

- Kurt Schwitters

The Great Lament Of My Obscurity Three

where we live the flowers of the clocks catch fire and the plumes encircle the brightness in the distant sulphur morning the cows lick the salt lilies
my son
my son
let us always shuffle through the colour of the world
which looks bluer than the subway and astronomy
we are too thin
we have no mouth
our legs are stiff and knock together
our faces are formeless like the stars
crystal points without strength burned basilica
mad : the zigzags crack
bite the rigging liquefy
the arc
towards the north through its double fruit
like raw flesh
hunger fire blood

- Tristan Tzara

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Saturday, October 16, 2010

I hear a saxophone, through a portable stereo, playing a sleepy, sweet version of Edelweiss

I hear a rotary saw cutting plywood, plus more distant hammer shots

I hear semi-rhythmic thawnks of a tennis ball and

I hear the happy slow swirls of jet-roar tracking overhead.

Thursday, October 14, 2010