Monday, February 12, 2007

Children in Purgatory

That glint in your eye that summons me up from the depths where the penitents weep into the sacs of their eyes; children in purgatory; ice flows in mastoids; the witness that is life lived in absentia. You will understand when there is nothing left to understand, the logos forgotten, the reason for knowing lost to forgetfulness, bad memory and weeping eyes.

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