Analect No. #63
A short history of our misplaced gaze:
Begin with the ground thumping songs of other people.
Entrance to the fierce cavern (the library of rats and
the locust hammer).
Her goose lute; rinsing echoes from her mouth,
She is the second song of her mother.
Professing plainness and simplicity:
Yet she sports a pheasant’s poverty.
Will you sing then “The Indoctrinated Child” again, then again, pleasing us? We that remain wine blossoms?
We fall off the pissing cart!
But, tied by blood to the Sobbing Smoke,
We speak through days in an opiate hour:
Crimson silk for the handmaid’s knife.
Ω
© 1999 Daniel Schnee
© 2017 Daniel Schnee
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Now I must go back and read your first six posts!
You can do that, or read them as individual snippets from a larger work. They are fractal bits from a large, spiraling zuihitsu.
I will jump around from post to post, choosing them willy-nilly.
Well, I am just thankful that you are interested in them! As Kabuki actors say, “Arigataki shiawaze koto de gozaru”… Okaji Sensei!
They’re brilliant!
Well, thank you very much! I just want to capture all the things that everyone else seems to leave behind: the scraps of language that fall between sentences and end up in the lunatic’s bowl…
나느, is the bees knees.
I spent a whole year writing the series nearly 20 years ago, so I am glad they hold up…