Let us consider the farmer who makes his straw hat his
sweetheart; or the old woman who makes a floor lamp her son;
or the young woman who has set herself the task of scraping
her shadow off a wall....
Let us consider the old woman who wore smoked cows’
tongues for shoes and walked a meadow gathering cow chips
in her apron; or a mirror grown dark with age that was given
to a blind man who spent his nights looking into it, which
saddened his mother, that her son should be so lost in
vanity....
Let us consider the man who fried roses for his dinner,
whose kitchen smelled like a burning rose garden; or the man
who disguised himself as a moth and ate his overcoat, and for
dessert served himself a chilled fedora....
I think, therefore I am, said a man whose mother quickly
hit him on the head, saying, I hit my son on the head,
therefore I am.
No no, you've got it all wrong, cried the man.
So she hit him on the head again and cried, therefore I am.
You're not, not that way; you're supposed to think, not hit,
cried the man.
. . . I think, therefore I am, said the man.
I hit, therefore we both are, the hitter and the one who gets
hit, said the man's mother.
But at this point the man had ceased to be; unconscious he
could not think. But his mother could. So she thought, I am,
and so is my unconscious son, even if he doesn't know it . . .
There’s only the writing, which I admit to knowing very little about. But then it’s probably best not to know. It allows one to work without expectation. Best to let the poem do the thinking while we concern ourselves with what’s called the personal life.
Russell Edson…description is deadly to a prose poem.
Russell EdsonRemember, words are the enemy of poetry.
Russell EdsonI never liked the term “experimental writing,” but what else is a prose poem? Having written a number of them, I still don’t know how they’re written.
Russell EdsonPerhaps I should kiss the face of the kitchen clock for luck. Perhaps its little hands with rapture would encircle my neck and we might be happy. I am sure happiness is not too far away
Russell Edsonأحب الخبز حسن الشكل. الخبز الشهى. ذلك النوع من الخبز الذى يظهر فى أحلام الجوع.
وكان أن التقيت بمثل ذلك الخبز. طرقت باباً(وأنا أحياناً أفعل ذلك لأحافظ على لياقة مفاصل أصابعى)؛ فظهرت امرأة ذات كتل عجينية غير متناسبة(كانت لها طلعةُ غير معجونة ولا مخبوزة) وفى يدها رغيفُ حسن الشكل إلى حدٍ ما.
أخذت قضمةً وبدأ الرغيف يبكى.
As a child I had wanted to become an automobile, but then I grew up to be thirty years old.
Russell EdsonIt is very difficult to stop feeling.
Russell EdsonDas Zitat auf Deutsch anzeigen
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