THE SIRENS These are the seductive voices of the night: the Sirens, too, sang that way. It would be doing them an injustice to say they wanted to seduce; they knew they had claws and sterile wombs, and they lamented this aloud. They could not help it if their laments sounded so beautiful. – Franz [...]
There are four legends concerning Prometheus. According to the first, he was clamped to a rock in the Caucasus for betraying the secrets of the gods to men, and the gods sent eagles to feed on his liver, which was permanently renewed. According to the second, Prometheus, goaded by the pain of the tearing beaks, [...]
Tagged Kafka, parable, thought shardsWhile rereading the superb Damned to Fame: The Life of Samuel Beckett, the autobiography by James Knowlson written with Beckett’s blessing, I came across this telling and amazing passage from Dream of Fair to Middling Women, Beckett’s first novel, published in 1932: He lay lapped in a beatitude of indolence that was smoother than oil [...]
Tagged Samuel BeckettThere was no one in him; behind his face (which even through the bad paintings of those times resembles no other) and his words, which were copious, fantastic and stormy, there was only a bit of coldness, a dream dreamt by no one. At first he thought that all people were like him, but the [...]
Tagged featured writers, parable, proseHigh Windows When I see a couple of kids And guess he’s fucking her and she’s Taking pills or wearing a diaphragm, I know this is paradise Everyone old has dreamed of all their lives– Bonds and gestures pushed to one side Like an outdated combine harvester, And everyone young going down the long slide [...]
Tagged featured writers, poetryA piece of a man had broken off in a road. He picked it up and put it in his pocket. As he stooped to pick up another piece he came apart at the waist. His bottom half was still standing. He walked over on his elbows and grabbed the seat of his pants and [...]
Tagged pith... picks, prose poetry, Russell EdsonThe Man Rock A man is a rock in a garden of chairs and waits a longtime to be over. It is easier for a rock in a garden than a man inside his mother. He decided to be a rock when he got outside. A rock asks only what is a rock. A rock [...]
Tagged pith... picks, Russell Edson