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THE DISINTEGRATIONISTS

                                                        Why is light given to a man whose way is hid…

                                                                                                 THE BOOK OF JOB

 

 

I am not

 

and have never been

 

the Cartesian subject:

 

as I made my first cut

 

across a line

 

bent over

 

the body

 

and by body

 

I mean the soft word

 

differentiated from its utterance,

 

not in semantic terms

 

but in-of-itself,

 

drifting away

 

from the engulfing hold—

 

like throttling

 

a machine

 

for its blood

 

and manner.

 

 

 

 

Poetry is a beginning

 

again

 

and this,

 

the book,

 

began

 

(we’ll recursively revisit

 

beginnings again

 

and again

 

(Heideggerian-like))

 

with a question,

 

but not


phenomenologically so—

 

The German,

 

herein,

 

will play

 

a minor

 

and ever-fading


role,

 

as will phenomenology

 

(but let’s not go

 

into that quite yet)—

 

poetry is a beginning

 

again

 

and a question must,

 

rationally,

 

follow—

 

but can we locate

 

the question—


precisely—

 

the question

 

of inquiry

 

is somewhat

 

of a beginning

 

and locatability

 

is its internal paradox,

 

arbitrary as that

 

investigatory starting point

 

might happen to be—

 

beginning again,

 

then,

 

is another way

 

of saying:

 

we have to begin

 

somewhere

 

and,


clearly,

 

we

 

already

 

have.

 

                                                                             No dream ever entirely disappears.

                                                                                                 NATHANIEL WEST


Posted 02/21/17
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