A kind of a "dangerous supplement", marked, scarred on a body, post-orgasmically, always, already in anticipation of (a) crisis OR for a desert avec 'agape'. Mindb(l)ogg(l)ing Noise. "Avalanche, would you share my last pursuit?" (Baudelaire)

Friday, March 12, 2004

a habit of expression

arxizw xana, to idio anapnoo kataxwniasma, me f. scott fitzgerald, john keats ke samuel beckett. if I were, if I were, this weary life, amid shadows and poems - those a'level poems haunting, those never-read yet never forgotten poems/ ena terastio project pros apofigi ke lipisi. the poem, the poem, all is left, all that is left, all (that) is left alone.
je osoi mono me logia (already written) mporoun na miloun as katalavoun. touto to habit of expression.

what would I do what I did yesterday and the day before
peering out of my deadlight looking for another
wandering like me eddying far from all the living
in a convulsive space
among the voices voiceless
that throng my hiddenness

(Beckett, S. last lines of 'que ferais-je sans ce monde (what would I do without this world)')

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

(Keats, J. last lines of 'To Autumn')

'Tis a word that's quickly spoken,
Which being unrestrained, a heart is broken.

(Beaumont + Fletcher, The Spanish Curate)

But he said, I am not mad, most noble Festus said; but speak forth the words of truth and soberness.
(Bible, Acts, ch. XXVI, v. 25)

den eine to psema ma i alithia enas topos pou mporeis na krifteis - diafana krina

I would begin with the greek word, omphalos, meaning the navel, and hence the stone that marked the centre of the world, and repeat it, omphalos omphalos omphalos, until its blunt and falling music becomes the music of somebody pumping water at the pump outside our back door.
(Seamus Heaney beginning of 'Mossbawm')

He showed how poetic vocation entails the disciplining of a habit of expression until it becomes fundamental to the whole conduct of a life.
(Seamus Heaney, ending of 'Learning from Eliot')

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