[lforlimbo]

Here I am and there is my body dancing on glass In accident time where there are no accidents You have no choice the choice comes after

[lforlimbo]

All night I hear the noise of water sobbing. All night I make night in me, I make the day that begins on my account, that sobs because day falls like water through night. All night I hear the voice of someone seeking me out. All night you abandon me slowly like the water that sobs slowly falling. All night I write luminous messages, messages of rain, all night someone checks for me and I check for someone. The noise of steps in the circle near this choleric light birthed from my insomnia. Steps of someone who no longer writhes, who no longer writes. All night someone holds back, then crosses the circle of bitter light. All night I drown in your eyes become my eyes. All night I prod myself on toward that squatter in the circle of my silence. All night I see something lurch toward my looking, something humid, contrived of silence launching the sound of someone sobbing. Absence blows grayly and night goes dense. Night, the shade of the eyelids of the dead, viscous night, exhaling some black oil that blows me forward and prompts me to search out an empty space without warmth, without cold. All night I flee from someone. I lead the chase, I lead the fugue. I sing a song of mourning. Black birds over black shrouds. My brain cries. Demented wind. I leave the tense and strained hand, I don’t want to know anything but this perpetual wailing, this clatter in the night, this delay, this infamy, this pursuit, this inexistence. All night I see that abandonment is me, that the sole sobbing voice is me. We can search with lanterns, cross the shadow’s lie. We can feel the heart thud in the thigh and water subside in the archaic site of the heart. All night I ask you why. All night you tell me no.

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[lforlimbo]

a. Birds b. One bird c. No birds Ever since the birds flew away from my words no one believes me anymore my hands are empty I show them they look they smile indulgently and turn away once I could call and a bird would sit on my shoulder its warm weight was proof now silence nests in my throat and even I no longer trust my voice

[lforlimbo]

Franz Kafka diaries

[lforlimbo]

SAMUEL BECKETT 13.4.1906

“I'm all these words, all these strangers, this dust of words, with no ground for their settling, no sky for their dispersing, coming together to say, fleeing one another to say, that I am they, all of them, those that merge, those that part, those that never meet, and nothing else, yes, something else, that I'm something quite different, a quite different thing, a wordless thing in an empty place, a hard shut dry cold black place, where nothing stirs, nothing speaks, and that I listen, and that I seek, like a caged beast born of caged beasts born of caged beasts born of caged beasts born in a cage and dead in a cage, born and then dead, born in a cage and then dead in a cage, in a word like a beast, in one of their words, like such a beast, and that I seek, like such a beast, with my little strength, such a beast, with nothing of its species left but fear and fury, no, the fury is past, nothing but fear, nothing of all its due but fear centupled, fear of its shadow, no, blind from birth, of sound then, if you like, we'll have that, one must have something, it's a pity, but there it is, fear of sound, fear of sounds, the sounds of beasts, the sounds of men, sounds in the daytime and sounds at night, that's enough, fear of sounds all sounds, more or less, more or less fear, all sounds, there's only one, continuous, day and night, what is it, it's steps coming and going, it's voices speaking for a moment, it's bodies groping their way, it's the air, it's things, it's the air among the things, that's enough, that I seek, like it, no, not like it, like me, in my own way, what am I saying, after my fashion, that I seek, what do I seek now, what it is, it must be that, it can only be that, what it is, what it can be, what what can be, what I seek, no, what I hear, I hear them, now it comes back to me, they say I seek what it is I hear, I hear them, now it comes back to me, what it can possibly be, and where it can possibly come from, since all is silent here, and the walls thick, and how I manage, without feeling an ear on me, or a head, or a body, or a soul, how I manage, to do what, how I manage, it's not clear, dear dear, you say it's not clear, something is wanting to make it clear, I'll seek, what is wanting, to make everything clear, I'm always seeking something, it's tiring in the end, and it's only the beginning.”

[lforlimbo]

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.”

[lforlimbo]

Kαθώς αποκοιμήθηκες φύλαγε βάρδια ο κάβος. Σε σπίτι μέσα, ξέχασες προχτές το φυλαχτό. Γελάς, μα εγώ σε πούλησα στο Rio για δύο centavos κι απέ σε ξαναγόρασα ακριβά στη Bηρυττό. Mε πορφυρό στα χείλη μου κοχύλι σε προστάζω. Στο χέρι το γεράκι σου και τα σκυλιά λυτά. Aπάνωθέ μου σκούπισε τη θάλασσα που στάζω και μάθε με να περπατώ πάνω στη γη σωστά. Kούκο φορούσες κάτασπρο μικρός και κολαρίνα. Nαυτάκι του γλυκού νερού. Σε πιάνει ―μην το πεις αλλού― σα γάτα η λαμαρίνα και σε σαστίζει ξαφνικό προβέτζο του καιρού. Tο ντύμα πάρε του φιδιού και δώσ’ μου ένα μαντίλι. Eγώ, ―και σ’ έγδυσα μπροστά στο γέρο Tισιανό. Bίρα, Kεφαλονίτισσα, και μάινα το καντήλι. Σε λόφο γιαπωνέζικο κοιμάται το στερνό. Σου πήρ’ από τη Nάπολη μια ψεύτικη καμέα κι ένα κοράλλι ξέθωρο μαζί. Πίσω απ’ το φριγκορίφικο στην άδεια προκυμαία έβενος, ―γλώσσα της φωτιάς, στο βάθος κρεμεζί. Φώτα του Melbourne. Bαρετά κυλάει ο Yara Yara ανάμεσα σε φορτηγά πελώρια και βουβά, φέρνοντας προς το πέλαγος, χωρίς να δίνει διάρα, του κοριτσιού το φίλημα, που στοίχισε ακριβά. Γερά την ανεμόσκαλα. Kαφέ για τον πιλότο. Λακίζετε, αλυσόδετοι του στεριανού καημού. Kαι σένα, που σε κέρδισα μιανής νυχτιάς σε λότο, σμίγεις και πας με τον καπνό του γκρίζου ποταμού. Mια βάρκα θέλω, ποταμέ, να ρίξω από χαρτόνι, όπως αυτές που παίζουνε στις όχθες μαθητές. Σκοτώνει, πες μου, ο χωρισμός; ―Mατώνει, δε σκοτώνει. Ποιός είπε φούντο; Ψέμματα. Δε φτάσαμε ποτές.

[lforlimbo]

“How can I explain to you, my happiness, my golden wonderful happiness, how much I am all yours — with all my memories, poems, outbursts, inner whirlwinds? Or explain that I cannot write a word without hearing how you will pronounce it — and can’t recall a single trifle I’ve lived through without regret — so sharp! — that we haven’t lived through it together — whether it’s the most, the most personal, intransmissible — or only some sunset or other at the bend of a road — you see what I mean, my happiness? And I know: I can’t tell you anything in words — and when I do on the phone then it comes out completely wrong. Because with you one needs to talk wonderfully, the way we talk with people long gone… in terms of purity and lightness and spiritual precision… You can be bruised by an ugly diminutive — because you are so absolutely resonant — like seawater, my lovely. I swear — and the inkblot has nothing to do with it — I swear by all that’s dear to me, all I believe in — I swear that I have never loved before as I love you, — with such tenderness — to the point of tears — and with such a sense of radiance.”

[lforlimbo]

Kafka diaries....

[lforlimbo]

Κύριε

Το κλουβί έγινε πουλί

Και πήρε φτερά

Και η καρδιά μου είναι τρελή

Γιατί ουρλιάζει στον θάνατο

Και χαμογελάει από πίσω από τον άνεμο στο παραλήρημά μου

Τι θα κάνω με τον φόβο

Τι θα κάνω με τον φόβο

Το φως δεν χορεύει πια στο χαμόγελό μου

Ούτε οι εποχές καίνε περιστέρια στις ιδέες μου

Τα χέρια μου έχουν καταστραφεί

Και έχουν πάει εκεί που ο θάνατος διδάσκει τους νεκρούς να ζουν

Κύριε

Ο αέρας με τιμωρεί που υπάρχω

Πίσω από τον αέρα υπάρχουν τέρατα που πίνουν το αίμα μου

Η καταστροφή είναι κοντά

Είναι η ώρα του απόλυτου κενού

Είναι ώρα να κλείσω τα χείλη καιαι να ακούσω το άθλιο γρύλισμα καθώς συλλογίζομαι όλα μου τα ονόματα κρεμασμένα στο τίποτα

Κύριε

Είμαι είκοσι χρονών

Και έτσι είναι και τα μάτια μου

Κι όμως δεν λένε τίποτα

Κύριε

Έχω καταναλώσει τη ζωή μου σε μια στιγμή

Η τελευταία αθωότητα έχει σπάσει

Τώρα είναι ποτέ ή ποτέ πια

Ή μήπως όχι;

Πώς γίνεται να μην αυτοκτονώ μπροστά σε έναν καθρέφτη

Και να εξαφανίζομαι μόνο για να επανεμφανιστώ στη θάλασσα οπου ένα πλοίο θα με περίμενε στολισμένο με φώτα;

Πώς γίνεται να μην βγάλω τις φλέβες μου και να τις κάνω σκάλα για να ξεφύγω στην άλλη πλευρά της νύχτας;

Η αρχή γέννησε το τέλος

Όλα θα μείνουν ίδια

Τα φθαρμένα χαμόγελα

Το εγωιστικό ενδιαφέρον

Ερωτήσεις από πέτρα σε πέτρα

Οι χειρονομίες που μιμούνται την αγάπη

Όλα θα μείνουν ίδια

Αλλά τα χέρια μου ακόμα λαχταρούν να αγκαλιάσουν τον κόσμο Γιατί δεν έχουν διδαχθεί οτι ο χρόνος έχει τελειώσει

Κύριε

Πέταξε τα φέρετρα από το αίμα μου

Θυμάμαι την παιδική μου ηλικία

Όταν ήμουν ήδη μια γριά

Τα λουλούδια πέθαιναν στα χέρια μου επειδή ο άγριος χορός της χαράς είχε καταστρέψει τις καρδιές τους

Θυμάμαι τα μαύρα ηλιόλουστα πρωινά

Ένα παιδί ήμουν τότε

Δηλαδή, χθες

Δηλαδή, αιώνες μακριά

Κύριε

Το κλουβί έγινε πουλί

Κι έχει καταβροχθίσει τις ελπίδες μου

Κύριε

Το κλουβί έγινε πουλί

Τι θα κάνω με τον φόβο

[lforlimbo]

Mister The cage has morphed into a bird And has taken wing And my heart is mad For it howls at death And smiles from behind the wind At my delirium What am I to do with fear What am I to do with fear Light dances no longer in my smile Nor do seasons burn doves in my ideations My hands have despoiled themselves And have gone where death Teaches the dead to live Mister Air punishes me for being Behind the air there are monsters Drinking of my blood Disaster is nigh It's the time of full void It's time to bolt the lips And hear the wretched growl As I muse all my names Hung in nothingness Mister I am twenty years old And so are my eyes And yet they say nothing Mister I have consummated my life in but an instant The last innocence has burst Now is never or never more Or is it? How come I don't commit suicide in front of a mirror And vanish only to resurface at sea Where a liner would wait for me Decked out in lights? How come I don't pull out my veins And make them into a ladder For me to escape to the other side of night? The beginning has given birth to the end Everything will stay the same The worn-out smiles The selfish interest Questions of stone in stone The gestures that mimic love Everything will stay the same But my arms still long to embrace the world For they have not been taught That time has run out Mister Jettison the coffins off my blood I remember my childhood When I was already an old woman Flowers died in my hands Because the wild dance of joy Had ravished their hearts I remember the black sunny mornings A child I was then That is, yesterday That is, centuries away Mister The cage has morphed into a bird And has devoured my hopes Mister The cage has morphed into a bird What am I to do with fear

[lforlimbo]

“I am the most tired woman in the world. I am tired when I get up. Life requires an effort I cannot make. Please give me that heavy book. I need to put something heavy like that on top of my head. I have to place my feet under the pillows always, so as to be able to stay on earth. Otherwise I feel myself going away, going away at a tremendous speed, on account of my lightness. I know that I am dead. As soon as I utter a phrase my sincerity dies, becomes a lie whose coldness chills me. Don't say anything, because I see that you understand me, and I am afraid of your understanding. I have such a fear of finding another like myself, and such a desire to find one! I am so utterly lonely, but I also have such a fear that my isolation be broken through, and I no longer be the head and ruler of my universe. I am in great terror of your understanding by which you penetrate into my world; and then I stand revealed and I have to share my kingdom with you.”

[lforlimbo]

“I’m tired, can’t think of a thing, and my sole wish is to lay my head in your lap, feel your hand on my head, and stay that way through all eternity-

Yours”

✉ Franz Kafka

Letters to Milena

[lforlimbo]

my lips, and all you’d loved them for

[lforlimbo]

...I am of an age when one begins to contemplate one's emaciated fingers, and at which youth is so full, so real that it cannot be long before it begins to fade. Your lips bring tears to my eyes; you sleep naked in my brain and I dare not rest.”

[lforlimbo]

I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone enough to make each hour holy… I am much too small in this world, yet not small enough to be to you just object and thing…

[lforlimbo]

S e a s h o r e

Fred Hudson