Saturday, April 11, 2009

Block and Tackle

No that’s not right, they came from over there, beyond the seven-mile fence. They arrived, and quickly, not ones for lollygagging and slack jawing. They came, that’s all. As they went they came; quickly and with little presence of mind. Beyond the seven-mile fence lays the eight-mile fence, and so on. Out beyond the nine-mile fence where the jimson grows… (sucked into hell’s slur·ry, never to be seen or heard from again). I must stop this, and soon… Jürgen ran overland to the cliffs, stopping only to zip the zipper on his squall jacket. The man in the hat, unaware that he was being espied upon took the first caravan southward to the cliffs overlooking the bluish blue sea. ‘…I will settle here for a while…’ he said, ‘…then move northward come morning…’. Dare I say, the willows are willowing and the Clostridium Gangrening. ‘How to cunvence to a woman about fuckinh’ was cut at eyelevel into the door, and below that ‘horsis are easer to cunvence’. Catherine II of Russia had her lover Grigori Alexandrovich Potyomkin-Tavricheski block and tackle a horse to the ceiling, on whose back, sitting sidesaddle, Count Alexander Matveyevich Dmitriev-Mamonov bucked and heaved; the block and tackle jimmying free from the ceiling joist, crushing the wind and longing out of the poor tsarists’ body.

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"Poetry is the short-circuiting of meaning between words, the impetuous regeneration of primordial myth". Bruno Schulz

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