Friday, December 29, 2006

Final Note on Baudelaire

(((20))) --- the city was a line drawn from wherever you are to some other, more radioactive spot: because there is always the sense that we will decay into ‘it’, will be experimental homeless persons waking invisibly in a seperable commercial sphere. each of our spasms will be shortlived and will have no letter ‘I’ //// but will have lips, albeit shared. the voice is a splintered image; a stain, static talking, scorched. these notes have little to do with Baudelaire, or other twilight phenomena like friendship or love.

[[[these notes are all part of a larger project called "baudelaire in english", which is almost done and will be published by Veer Books sometime in 2007]]]


Jo Lindsay Walton said...

tomorrow we will proclaim that it has caught on fire x

Jo Lindsay Walton said...

I’m having a private party
Ain’t no body here but me,
my angels, and my guitar singing baby look how far we’ve come here
I’m havin’ a private party
Learning how to love me
Celebrating the woman I’ve become yeah

jack said...

"it bark. its nasty little churches."

And they do bark all over themselves all theory they use to write their liturgy.

Nasty little little letters that we love nothing can really make them clean.


Jo Lindsay Walton said...

ay man, when's our date wi Piers?