extinguish my eyes, i still can see you,
close my ears, i can hear your footsteps fall,
and without feet i still can follow you,
and without voice i still can to you call.
break off my arms, and i can embrace you,
enfold you with my heart as with a hand.
hold my heart, my brain will take fire of you
as flax ignites from a lit fire-brand—
and flame will sweep in a swift rushing flood
through all the singing currents of my blood.
from rainer maria rilke's the book of pilgrimage
image - i honestly forget, some book cover i scanned....
a rose is a ripping off scraps of flesh, eagle-owl
the lamb-eating vulture, lovely as the law vanished into higher strata
the alcoholic's trembling hand, dissappeared on the horizon,
for i no longer knew what i was doing
text bastardized from paul knight's translation of lautréamont's maldoror
my copy found in a trash bin in sf in 97, by the tower of light
who passed it on to me as he had it
god bless his soul, maybe i remember it wrong and it was just
in the street, i think with colin wilson's the outsider and a few
other life changing books.
this scenario reads like poetry from corman's a bucket of blood....