May 22, 2016
The Loquela
loquela
2. Humboldt calls the sign's freedom volubility. I am (inwardly) voluble, because I cannot anchor my discourse: the signs turn "in free wheeling." If I could constrain the sign, submit it to some action, I could find rest at least. If only we could put our minds in plaster casts, like our legs! But I cannot keep from thinking, from speaking; no director is there to interrupt the interior movie I keep making of myself, someone to shout, Cut! Volubility is a kind of specifically human misery: I am language-mad: no one listens to me, no one looks at me, but (like Schubert's organ-grinder) I go on talking, turning my hurdy-gurdy.
Roland Barthes. Fragments d’un discours amoureux, 1977.
Image: Patricia Whittle, Royal Ballet by Bob Willoughby, 1962.
#literarytheory #barthes #dictionary #photography #willoughby #ballet
Loquacity
is dreams fragmented running on the wind,
is dreams fragmented running on the wind,
love,
as it swims in waves and tossed
in abundance of words.
Loquacity,
when I inward turn
for language,
and outward breathe,
and dance,
alone like a dervish
to the rhythm of words.
Loquacity,
when a morning dawns
on the crest of the mind
and throws off-balance the silence of passion
and the mind, let loose,
vainly searches for the anchor of words.
It's a moment rising in a crescendo,
a color of scarlet rose spreading in ripples
and dyeing the ocean red.
Sushama Karnik
as it swims in waves and tossed
in abundance of words.
Loquacity,
when I inward turn
for language,
and outward breathe,
and dance,
alone like a dervish
to the rhythm of words.
Loquacity,
when a morning dawns
on the crest of the mind
and throws off-balance the silence of passion
and the mind, let loose,
vainly searches for the anchor of words.
It's a moment rising in a crescendo,
a color of scarlet rose spreading in ripples
and dyeing the ocean red.
Sushama Karnik
The Loquela
loquela
2. Humboldt calls the sign's freedom volubility. I am (inwardly) voluble, because I cannot anchor my discourse: the signs turn "in free wheeling." If I could constrain the sign, submit it to some action, I could find rest at least. If only we could put our minds in plaster casts, like our legs! But I cannot keep from thinking, from speaking; no director is there to interrupt the interior movie I keep making of myself, someone to shout, Cut! Volubility is a kind of specifically human misery: I am language-mad: no one listens to me, no one looks at me, but (like Schubert's organ-grinder) I go on talking, turning my hurdy-gurdy.
Roland Barthes. Fragments d’un discours amoureux, 1977.
Image: Patricia Whittle, Royal Ballet by Bob Willoughby, 1962.
#literarytheory #barthes #dictionary #photography #willoughby #ballet
No comments:
Post a Comment