Menta Hierbabuena @mentahierbabuena - Tumblr Blog

Refusal, which is only sometimes a kind of poetry, does not have to be limited to poetry, and turning the world upside down, which is often a kind of poetry, doesn't have to be limited to words. [...] We can make a poetry without language because language as the rehearsal material of poetry has made the way for another poetry, that of objects, actions, environments and their arrangement. This is not saying to be a poet mens you can only rehearse turning over the world: now try putting the chair on your head.

De “No” ● Anne Boyer

#anne boyer #no

4. (Something bright)

We share a brightness It’s called death in life

I toss and turn all night, hearing you say I want to touch you without using my hands

Then wake up with an offer: The hype of my clarity My good clench and ache

5. (Then holes)

Every morning the shadow of my hand haunts this table, asking, Can I bleed here, can I become free here

Don’t want to be free want to be with you, says the monster But he is literally

a monster. And I seek a different life, one of constant rapture

though I know the shadow will soon return with new questions, like Is this theater? De “Morning Prayers” ● Maggie Nelson

#morning prayers #maggie nelson

Only the words break the silence, all other sounds have ceased. If I were silent I'd hear nothing. But if I were silent the other sounds would start again, those to which the words have made me deaf, or which have really ceased. But I am silent, it sometimes happens, no, never, not one second. I weep too without interruption. It's an unbroken flow of words and tears. With no pause for reflection. But I speak softer, every year a little softer. Perhaps. Slower too, every year a little slower. Perhaps. It is hard for me to judge. If so the pause would be longer, between the words, the sentences, the syllables, the tears, I confuse them, words and tears, my words are my tears, my eyes my mouth. And I should hear, at every little pause, if it's the silence I say when I say that only the words break it. But nothing of the kind, that's not how it is, it's for ever the same murmur, flowing unbroken, like a single endless word, and therefore meaningless, for it's the end gives the meaning to words.

De Texts for Nothing (8) ● Samuel Beckett

#Samuel Beckett #Texts for Nothing

Contrary to the discourse of reality and rationality, which counts on the fact that there is something (meaning) rather than nothing and therefore claims to have its final foundation in the guarantee of an objective and decipherable world, radical thought wagers on the illusion of the world. It claims to be illusion restoring the non-veracity of facts, the non-signification of the world, making the opposite hypothesis that there might be nothing rather than something, and tracking this nothing running underneath the apparent continuity of meaning.

En The Conspiracy of Art ● Jean Baudrillard

(Traducción de Ames Hodges)

#jean baudrillard #the conspiracy of art

enlodemas

Anhelos de lo improbable

Una canica amarilla hace equilibrios en la cuerda floja del cielo. Joseph Cornell anota echa a andar deja ir el blanco lo concéntrico. La noción de caja se detiene en un clavo en una estrella de mar en la bisagra en el anuncio de que está a la vuelta de la esquina. Cornell le hace un hábitat al esbozo en archivos de monedas de siluetas de lo que suena al abrir la herrumbre las notas de un cajón. Guarda el aire en un frasco transparente. Lo tapa un dado de corcho. Lo acomoda una vitrina un espejo en su farmacia. En el gis los recortes las matatenas las rejillas se cierne siempre finalmente el sentido. Se va al callejón de lo aledaño. Cornell coloca en la espiral de la nostalgia un caracol dos burbujas y tres rosas de los vientos. Sílabas de un mundo para casi articular. Encuadra lo que se espera lo que salpica del eclipse en un pozo. La ilusión del accidente del significado. La banalidad vuelta emoción. Hoteles de la imaginación, albergues planetarios dardos suaves cajas como catálogos para rasgar las órbitas de lo lejano de lo cercano. Llave negra Cornell bálsamo Cornell improbable Cornell prisiones Cornell playas vacías maquinaria Cornell sueños repertorios navegación.

mutam

mutus muta mutum adjective

[…]

(of an animal) that can only mutter, inarticulate; (as substantive) dumb creature; (of utterance) inarticulate; (of persons) lacking the faculty of speech, dumb, a dumb person; dea muta a nymph struck dumb by Jupiter for talkativeness = Lara (mother of the Lares); (of persons) saying nothing, silent; (of animals) uttering no cry; (of objects) making no sound; persona muta a person who says nothing on stage; (temporarily) robbed of utterance, (speechless) with some emotion; (of places) not filled with utterance or other sound, silent; silentia muta noctis deep speechlessness of night; (of actions) not accompanied by sound, noiseless; artes mutae silent arts (not famous); (of things) giving no information; mutum dico I do not say a word; tempus magis a litteris there was a better reason for not writing; (of a consonant) that cannot be sounded by itself, mute.

De Nox ● Anne Carson

#anne carson #nox #mutam

wowgreat

Jane Lee

jpiringer-deactivated20240611

xy animated

◆ ⧗ ◆ /// Laurel Halo, Low, Katapulto, Handsome Boy Modeling, Cat Power, Oren Ambarchi, Eric Chenaux. ◆

#playlist #playlust #laurel halo #low #katapulto #handsome boy modeling #cat power #oran ambarchi #eric chenaux

solarflares

Visit Original Link

Pulse (XS Version) - Alva Noto

raster-noton

img:xverdxse

Water Music (1964), Chieko Shiomi

●

1. Give the water still form 2. Let the water lose its still form

#chieko shiomi #water music #wld2015 #fluxus

◆ ⚉⚈ ◆ /// Glass Isle, Fay, Röyksopp + Robyn, Holly Herndon, I-LP-O IN DUB, Steve Reich, LST, Ben Von Wildenhaus. ◆

#playlist #glass isle #fay #röyksopp #robyn #holly herndon #i-lp-o in dub #steve reich #lst #ben von wildenhaus #playlust

De As Coisas ● Arnaldo Antunes

(Traducción de Ivana Vollaro y Reynaldo Jiménez

El cuerpo existe y puede ser tocado. Es suficientemente opaco para poder verlo. Si te quedas mirando años puedes ver crecer el pelo. El cuerpo existe porque fue hecho. Por eso tiene un agujero en el medio. Dado que exhala calor, existe el cuerpo. Y en cada extremidad existe un dedo. El cuerpo si cortado chorrea un líquido rojo. El cuerpo tiene alguien como relleno.

De As Coisas ● Arnaldo Antunes

(Traducción de Ivana Vollaro y Reynaldo Jiménez)

#as coisas #arnaldo antunes