What terrified us so?
At the fall of the cities:
Why did we inhabit them?
I love the way the grasses - one genus
Following the other - smother the dead cars;
The strict order of their progress.
I love the way her neck falls into
Soft lines and the hardening of her hands;
The strict order of her decline.
I sung the world no longer there -
Hardly a dried flower of Apollinaire,
Hardly a chair,
And we would fail to know it in the market.
Howard Barker
1990s
2 комментария:
I re-read this Barker poem when finishing Jacques Lacan's Seminar XVI: "Try not to loose the thread about what you are as an effect of knowledge. You are split apart in the phantasy [i.e., the divided subject moving towards the object of desire]. You are, however strange this may appear, the cause of yourself. Only there is no self. There is only a divided self. Entering on this path is where the only true political revolution can flow from. Knowledge serves the master [the subject/(unconscious)] ... and is born of the slave [the body]. .... the formulae ... in parallel: knowledge serves the woman, because it makes her the cause of desire."
If only confined to their 'group,' anglophones appear to believe they are precluded from any autonomous generative power of the 'self' : conceding it as an impossible anachronism in the liberal market of their new world order. Barker despairs the loss of Apollinaire's powerfully charged artifacts, meant to be permanent in the poets' hearts: "Mais sur nos cœurs des fleurs séchées fleurs de jadis
Sont toujours là immarcescibles à nos cœurs tristes".
What a bleak prospect they choose--no "horizons fumeux"--as if trapped in a dimension of Tarkovsky movies without final scenes.
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