Wednesday, August 30, 2006

iN a fERENCZI*

I found myself running around in a Ferenczi today. I rode a bus conducted by conductor Hines (such as his nameplate said) said Hines swerving and careening with an urgency far surpassing common clemency and pardon. As the lorry-bus veered and listed unattended by said Hines, who was otherwise preoccupied with more pressing things, much to my dismay I dropped my bobbin and string, thereby putting an end to my daily Fort/Da Fort/Dadaism. I threw my transfer into the nearest dustbin, behind a slow-food restaurant, as it was, and walked home in an amble.

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