If one adds a detail to reality

one transforms the world.  Méliès did it—

and ended up selling toys in a fair.

I’m not Basquiat (1960-1988) but I will raise my voice –

you all can tell me to go to hell,

I’ll tell you like he did:  “This examination is over.”

I don’t have what it takes, according to Holderlin, for

the golden mediocrity of life.  I think I think, with him,

that what lasts is made by poets – and so like Franz

I have a curious animal, half kitty,

half lamb – inheritance from the father.  Franz

comes to be the poet, and I dig another tunnel of the Twenty.

I am an old corrupt mole; I go back to the ark—

while Voltaire tends his own garden.  And I say:
I’d like to carry out an act liberating me as it unfolds – but

the thing internal to what is called an act, is the fact that one

does not know oneself, says Jacques Lacan my psychoanalyst to me.

The desire to live in more than one world doesn’t give me salvation—

I don’t know Blumenberg, I’m not lost in the forest

like a maiden.  Or yes:  I am lost, and alone, an animal

quartered before so many roads:  they break it open, knock it over.

Then he tells me about Sunday’s reading

which says mean-ing is the re-nun-ci-a-tion of a mean-ing.  I’m scared,

but tomorrow I’m off to Sibanicú, tomorrow.[1]

add detail to

transform the world.  Méliès did—

selling toys in a fair.

Basquiat (1960-1988) will

tell me to go to hell,

I tell you:  “This examination is over.”

what golden mediocrity

takes.  I think I think

what is made by poets –

half kitty,

half lamb – father Franz

at another tunnel.

I am corrupt; I go back—

Voltaire tends his garden.  say:
carry out an act, liberating as it unfolds –

the thing is the fact that one

does not know oneself.

desire to live salvation—

don’t know, I’m not lost in the forest

0r yes:  lost, alone,

quartered: break it open, knock it over.

Sunday’s read

says mean-ing is re-nun-ci-a-tion.  I’m scared

but tomorrow I’m off to Sibanicú, tomorrow.

Protection of the Order Xenotranslation 3: 61.3 words

to

the world.  did

toys in a fair.

Basquiat

hell,

I is over.

gold

I think I think

poets –

half half l – father Franz

other tunnel.

I am

his garden.  say:
an act folds –

the thing is fact.

live salvation—

know I’m not

yes:  lost, alone,

open, over.

Sunday’s read

says re-nun-ci-a-tion.  I’m scared

but tomorrow I’m off to Sibanicú, tomorrow.

to the toys

Basquiat,

I is over.

golden

I think poets –

half l father

tunnel.

I say: act, thing, fact.

salvation—

not yes:  one, open

Sunday’s

re-nun-ci-a-tion

tomorrow Sibanicú, too.

Basquiat old father: no

yes:  o

re-nun-ci-a-tion

no – yes