Sunday, August 20, 2006

dA/fORT/dA*

In a dream I dreamt I was dreaming about having a dream, dreaming a dream about dreaming that I was dreaming {about dreaming}. Where does it end, this not-quite-being-in-the-world; a Freudian Fort/Da without twine or pin, a Da/Fort, a scurvy(ness); a Heideggerian leap, this unwinding dreamscape that is neither a somnambulism nor a waking state? It is greyer than boiled mutton shoulder, cirrus of clouds, no: a circus of clouds, a clown of clouds, a clownishness of clouds clouding the cloudless sky. If it rains, which I hope it does, I will pull on my mucking boots and seize the day, a somnambulist’s timorous pipe.

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