Dichten

A blog of Poetry: to say, to speak, the verb for to make poetry, dichten. Poetry is the condition for the possibility of philosophy, the condition that fulfills its own condition, a sort of causa sui that doesn't leap but grounds in its disdain for the question of ground. This blog hates itself in its metaphysics, but achieves the height of nothing...

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Location: Chicago, United States

"In addition to the choice of words, positioning of words, and the sequencing of words, it is above all the entire overall resonance of the poetic telling that "expresses" the so-called meaning. Yet this overall resonance of the telling is not simply the result of the positioning of words and arranging of lines, but rather the reverse: the overall resonance of the telling is the initial, creative resonance that first intimates the language; it is the origin not only for the arranging and positioning of the words, but also for the choice of words, an origin that in its resonance constantly anticipates the use of words. This overall resonance of the telling, however, is from the outset determined by the fundamental attunement of the poetry, which takes form within the inner outline of the whole. The fundamental attunement for its part grows out of the particular metaphysical locale of the poetry in question." Martin Heidegger, Hoelderlin's hymns "Germania" and "The Rhine", translated by William McNeill, not yet published.

Tuesday, August 24, 2004

Waiting

Want to make something strange and incomprehensible

Yet expressing a profound meaning

Out of a bag of profound meanings I can't come to the one I'd like to use right now.

Its not as usual where I forget what comes to my mind, but as I wait for a thought to come to me, not becoming impatient, I guess I enjoy the waiting so much that thoughts just don't come to me, and I wait for them as at a red light that never turns green.

I must remind the reader that I am one of the rare people that not only doesn't mind traffic but actually enjoys it as a beautiful and interesting phenomenon of existence.

But, rereading the above, thinking about how thoughts don't come to me I came to the most important thought, the key to peace, existence's secret that affects all in some way or another, and as Benjamin says: like the parasitic elements, we must wait; in fact all we really do is wait for our deaths, the only sure thing in our lives. All things wait, whether they know it or not, but we are the only animals that become irritated with and at waiting. If we were to just enjoy waiting life would be so much easier and more enjoyable.

But we would probably become very lazy when there are always things we have to do.

No more to write tonight.
This morning.
I feel I need to write
I'll soon be snoring
blogged out
Let's be good
if I could I would
still write
but not tonight.
I can't rhyme, I'm out.

posted by irrefutable | 11:30 PM

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