As if I did not begin and end by loving you

Derrida mourning his mother is my favorite Derrida. +++ As if I loved only your memory and confession of me but who would I be, me, if I did not begin and end by loving you in my private language deprived of you, that very one, the untranslatable one, in which the jokes leave us floored… like the day on which a premeditation of love had dictated to me for immortality, no, for posterity, no, for the truth that you are, et lux tua veritas, et veritas tu, [And thy law is the truth, and thou are the truth] “don’t…

Found Poem: From Heidegger’s "The Origin of the Work of Art," Hofstadter translation

The artwork lets us know what shoes arein truth. Art a circle; circles in this circle.Artworks shipped like coal from the Ruhr,Hölderlin’s hymns packed in soldier’s knapsacksduring the First World War. Beethoven’squartets lie in storerooms like potatoes in a cellar.The far-spreading, ever-uniform furrowsof the field swept by a raw wind. A thinglything-being, the loneliness of the field-pathas evening falls. A workly work-being,the silent call of the fallow desolationof the wintry field. The certainty of bread.The menace of death. We hesitate to call Goda hankering after the irrational, an alienphilosophy. What is pregiven to the poetand how is it given, so…

Found Poem: From Hartman’s ‘Crossing Over: Literary Commentary as Literature’

Anti-evangelical, a flight beyondthe eagle referred to, viaa pun on Hegel: Out of nothing,into nothing, endlessly approachingthe limit we call meaning: Jem’aigle: I am my own vulture.A hieroglyphic hysteria, phobia,the commentator’s contaminatingchiastic discourse: Sourceand secondary, inseparable. Atextual infinity, a new geometry,this Immaculate Conception, ICici. Here and now. The odysseyof spirit, that critic of critics,that promised land, not oursto enter. We die in the wilderness:But to have desired to enter it! —To have saluted from afar —The only reply: Ah, Wilderness. — all language taken from “Crossing Over: Literary Commentary as Literature,” an essay by Geoffrey Hartman

Found Poem: From Hegel’s ‘Phenomenology of Spirit’

The progressive unfolding of truth: The bud disappears in the bursting-forth blossom… Falsemanifestation, the fruit now emerges as truth instead. To lay aside “love of knowing,” and become “actual knowing” — That is whatI have set myself to do. The “beautiful” —the “eternal” –“religion” and “love” — Theseare the bait required to arouse the desire to bite. The eye of the Spirit forcibly turned,and held fast to the things of this world… Now we need just the opposite: Sense is so fast rooted in the earthly things that it requires.Broken with the world, hitherto inhabitedand imagined, Beauty hates Understanding for…