dilluns, 18 d’agost de 2014

clickety-clack

[klik-i-tee-klak]
noun
1. a rhythmic, swiftly paced succession of alternating clicks and clacks, as the sound produced by the wheels of a train moving over tracks.

Also called clickety-click [klik-i-tee-klik]




heard about you last night, really
heard about you and i couldn't believe it
really
a voice in the night almost disappearing
speaking of you
a voice speaking in tongues speaking of you
a voice speaking in tongues for a duration of time that must be equal to the distance that separates us. really
a voice speaking in tongues that i could very well understand because it was obvious that she was speaking of you. so many nice things, she told! so many great things, she explained! and i am sure that the duration of her speech was as long as the distance that separates us. really. her speech occupated the same number of km that exist between you and me. there is no doubt about it. i am so sure about it that i could put my hand into fire and i wouldn't get burnt.
we are exploding away.

and all,
(all,
really, all,)
was real.

dissabte, 9 d’agost de 2014

la Núria

em demana unes paraules. alguna cosa. i em diu:
- el record que no s'ha viscut i l'apropiació del mateix
- l'apropiació del viatge, de l'experiència, del paisatge, de l'absència.
          em dic: l'apropiació de l'absència
                      l'apropiació del record que no s'ha viscut
- el fantasma del passat o senzillament la fàbula

s'aproxima el soroll i jo he d'escriure molt encara:
--

(note:
I've been invited to inhabit the memories of a body I've never met,
to be the guest of an invisible someone
and let her be the host
-call it a hopeless task or call it murder-.
ich bin wieder heim in her ghost-life
- or many broken states left behind in a house of ecstasy -
I write but only
in an illusion
For I remember and I don't)

Roadtrip 372 o 1.
a static composition:
a shape in movement
and its various positions.
the silhouette of a body
individual parts but not the whole.

blank

a shape that passes through
time 
space
the mirror, a reflection
a line;
atrocious terrible solitude.

there must be a mistake somewhere
a long silence followed.


Roadtrip 272 o 2.
we might be heading toward a catastrophe
(continuous dialogue inside the car)

this was real.
stars were planes
all and none. yours (
there was no doubt about it
all they could be)

blind windows, a blank.
invisible lights outside.

superimposed: another picture/
superimposed: this scene,
this cage,
this blank.
-a sort of nihilism:
eyes filled with nonsense pictures,
forever.-



Roadtrip 172 o 3.
she was afraid to call it love
(she called it swimming.)

-arms relaxed abruptly,
abruptly relaxed and rested,
equal and symmetrically
opposite hands.
take her to the limits of intelligibility.-

blank

always the same day
wherever she looked
black clouds, drenched summer
(eternally distracted.)

always the same shift
same centre of gravity,
conditional liberty, pure energy of dissent,
(marvellously compensated.)

blank

a reflection in the mirror
never completed man or woman
never in one side nor another
and she ties her shoes for her feet to hurt
(you think you deserve this pain but you don't)

she will be shot combing her hair, (she is a native of this island.
on the underside of the satin leaf, where she used to be lonely.)
lower her voice.
then nothing else.

dissabte, 2 d’agost de 2014

Peter Gizzi i +

sobre "Ode: Salute to the New York School", 1950 - 1970 (a libretto):
"My intention was to make what I call a performing bibliography. Since this is, in effect, what most of us do on a daily basis - referring to or performing what we've read- it seemed a useful metaphor to describe how we enact our reading practice."

transliteration: translating one set of signifiers into forms of another to manifest and make strange the almost invisible coexistence of non-alphabetic marks among words.

[SUNS HAVE MULTIPLIED EXPONENTIALLY]