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EXPERIMENTAL POETRY

· Gertrude Stein: Mrs. Whitehead · Hugo Ball: Totentanz 1916 · Laure (Colette Peignot): Ils craignent · Gertrude Stein: Counting Her Dresses. A Play · August Stramm: Erfüllung (Gedicht) · Carina van der Walt: LocHal (gedicht) · The Salt Companion to Mina Loy · Poetic Salvage. Reading Mina Loy by Tara Prescott · Antonin Artaud: Le Navire mystique (Poème) · Mina Loy’s Critical Modernism by Laura Scuriatti · Robert Desnos: Jack l’Égareur · Antonin Artaud: Je ne crois plus aux mots des poèmes (Poème)

»» there is more...

Gertrude Stein: Mrs. Whitehead

 

Mrs. Whitehead

But you like it.
They can’t any of them be quite as bad because they learned french but I never did.
He doesn’t look dead at all.
The wind might have blown him.
He comes from that direction. That’s the way.
They are not knotted. Have you smelt it. What would you suggest, your advice I have come across three or four.
So they are the others.
Separate them.
It does make one come, he is extraordinarily charming and endearing once of twice only twice I think.
He is not staying out that’s hard beside that what does he do.
That’s long for his mother.
She travelled from this rest. She crocheted from this nest.
She crocheted from this nest. I thought it wasn’t ever.
It’s one of my favorite ones this.
And yet not this.
Isn’t it funny.
It isn’t.
Break or breaking, very fair, break or very wanting.
I tried it this way before.
Very difficult to change extra places and yet I can agree. I can agree by that. I rest this piece of it and it’s nearly the same climate. I will tell you why they want a real door. They choose it.
They do so and very pure water. They are safe when they take a bath. Oh it is very. Oh it is.
In a way a vest.
I do think you get what you want.
Corrections.
It is eleven weeks from the middle of September. I glance in a way.
It is eleven weeks from the middle of September.
Total recollect others.
I glance at and I can recollect others. I make a division neatly, I close.
What is wrong with not blue. That is right with apples. Apples four. For. Fore.
Before that.
Next stretching.
Next for that leaf stretching.
I do not state leaf.
I like to beg very much stream.
Not exactly in state.
Understate.
All in so.
They expect all the blues to take of all the other families, the whites are extra they are beside all that, they make a little house and through and beside that they live in Paris.
Hardly enough for wood.
Not a color even.
By now a change of grass and wedding rings and all but the rest plan. I don’t care I won’t look.
I am not sure that yellow is good. I am tall.
Allow that. I don’t want any more out in conversation.
I can be careful.
Not within wearing it.
I cannot say to stay.
No please don’t get up.
And now that.
Yes I see.
Did you pay him for that whether for a spider and such splendor and indeed quitting. I meant to gather.
I see it I see it.
Please ocean spoke please Helen land please take it away.
I saw a spoken leave leaf and flowers made vegetables and foliage in soil. I saw representative mistakes and glass cups, I saw a whole appearance of respectable refugees, I did not ask actors I asked pearls, I did not choose to ask trains, I was satisfied with celebrated ransoms. I cannot deny Bertie Henschel is coming tomorrow. Saturdays are even. There is a regular principle, if you mention it you mention what happened.
What do you make of it.
You exceed all hope and all praise.

Stein, Gertrude
(1874-1946)
Mrs. Whitehead

fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive S-T, Archive S-T, Gertrude Stein, Stein, Gertrude


Hugo Ball: Totentanz 1916

Totentanz 1916

So sterben wir, so sterben wir
Und sterben alle Tage,
Weil es so gemütlich sich sterben lässt.
Morgens noch in Schlaf und Traum,
Mittags schon dahin,
Abends schon zu unterst im Grabe drin.

Die Schlacht ist unser Freudenhaus,
Von Blut ist unsre Sonne,
Tod ist unser Zeichen und Losungswort.
Kind und Weib verlassen wir:
Was gehen sie uns an!
Wenn man sich auf uns nur verlassen kann!

So morden wir, so morden wir
Und morden alle Tage
Unsere Kameraden im Totentanz.
Bruder, reck Dich auf vor mir!
Bruder, Deine Brust!
Bruder, der Du fallen und sterben musst.

Wir murren nicht, wir knurren nicht,
Wir schweigen alle Tage
Bis sich vom Gelenke das Hüftbein dreht.
Hart ist unsre Lagerstatt,
Trocken unser Brot,
Blutig und besudelt der liebe Gott.

Wir danken Dir, wir danken Dir,
Herr Kaiser für die Gnade,
Dass Du uns zum Sterben erkoren hast.
Schlafe Du, schlaf sanft und still,
Bis Dich auferweckt
Unser armer Leib, den der Rasen deckt.

Hugo Ball
(1886-1927)
Totentanz 1916

• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive A-B, Ball, Hugo, Dada, DADA, Dadaïsme


Laure (Colette Peignot): Ils craignent

 

Ils craignent

Peu savent qu’à se détourner
ils retrouveraient le sel de la vie

A se détourner ils craindraient
de se voir transformer en statue de sel.

Peu savent qu’à se détourner de droit chemin
ils retrouveraient le goût.

 

Laure
(Colette Peignot 1903 – 1938)
Ils craignent

• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive K-L, Archive O-P, Laure (Colette Peignot)


Gertrude Stein: Counting Her Dresses. A Play

Counting Her Dresses
A Play

 

Part I.

ACT I.

When they did not see me.

I saw them again.

I did not like it.

ACT II.

I count her dresses again.

ACT III.

Can you draw a dress.

ACT IV.

In a minute.

 

Part II.

ACT I.

Believe in your mistake.

ACT II.

Act quickly.

ACT III.

Do not mind the tooth.

ACT IV.

Do not be careless.

 

Part III.

ACT I.

I am careful.

ACT II.

Yes you are.

ACT III.

And obedient.

ACT IV.

Yes you are.

ACT V.

And industrious.

ACT VI.

Certainly.

 

Part IV.

ACT I.

Come to sing and sit.

ACT II.

Repeat it.

ACT III.

I repeat it.

 

Part V.

ACT I.

Can you speak quickly.

ACT II.

Can you cough.

ACT III.

Remember me to him.

ACT IV.

Remember that I want a cloak.

 

Part VI.

ACT I.

I know what I want to say. How do you do I forgive you everything and there is nothing to forgive.

 

Part VII.

ACT I.

The dog. You mean pale.

ACT II.

No we want dark brown.

ACT III.

I am tired of blue.

 

Part VIII.

ACT I.

Shall I wear my blue.

ACT II.

Do.

 

Part IX.

ACT I.

Thank you for the cow.

Thank you for the cow.

ACT II.

Thank you very much.

 

Part X.

ACT I.

Collecting her dresses.

ACT II.

Shall you be annoyed.

ACT III.

Not at all.

 

Part XI.

ACT I.

Can you be thankful.

ACT II.

For what.

ACT III.

For me.

 

Part XII.

ACT I.

I do not like this table.

ACT II.

I can understand that.

ACT III.

A feather.

ACT IV.

It weighs more than a feather.

 

Part XIII.

ACT I.

It is not tiring to count dresses.

 

Part XIV.

ACT I.

What is your belief.

 

Part XV.

ACT I.

In exchange for a table.

ACT II.

In exchange for or on a table.

ACT III.

We were satisfied.

 

Part XVI.

ACT I.

Can you say you like negro sculpture.

 

Part XVII.

ACT I.

The meaning of windows is air.

ACT II.

And a door.

ACT III.

A door should be closed.

 

Part XVIII.

ACT I.

Can you manage it.

ACT II.

You mean dresses.

ACT III.

Do I mean dresses.

 

Part XIX.

ACT I.

I mean one two three.

 

Part XX.

ACT I.

Can you spell quickly.

ACT II.

I can spell very quickly.

ACT III.

So can my sister-in-law.

ACT IV.

Can she.

 

Part XXI.

ACT I.

Have you any way of sitting.

ACT II.

You mean comfortably.

ACT III.

Naturally.

ACT IV.

I understand you.

 

Part XXII.

ACT I.

Are you afraid.

ACT II.

I am not any more afraid of water than they are.

ACT III.

Do not be insolent.

 

Part XXIII.

ACT I.

We need clothes.

ACT II.

And wool.

ACT III.

And gloves.

ACT IV.

And waterproofs.

 

Part XXIV.

ACT I.

Can you laugh at me.

ACT II.

And then say.

ACT III.

Married.

ACT IV.

Yes.

 

Part XXV.

ACT I.

Do you remember how he looked at clothes.

ACT II.

Do you remember what he said about wishing.

ACT III.

Do you remember all about it.

 

Part XXVI.

ACT I.

Oh yes.

ACT II.

You are stimulated.

ACT III.

And amused.

ACT IV.

We are.

 

Part XXVII.

ACT I.

What can I say that I am fond of.

ACT II.

I can see plenty of instances.

ACT III.

Can you.

 

Part XXVIII.

ACT I.

For that we will make an arrangement.

ACT II.

You mean some drawings.

ACT III.

Do I talk of art.

ACT IV.

All numbers are beautiful to me.

 

Part XXIX.

ACT I.

Of course they are.

ACT II.

Thursday.

ACT III.

We hope for Thursday.

ACT IV.

So do we.

 

Part XXX.

ACT I.

Was she angry.

ACT II.

Whom do you mean was she angry.

ACT III.

Was she angry with you.

 

Part XXXI.

ACT I.

Reflect more.

ACT II.

I do want a garden.

ACT III.

Do you.

ACT IV.

And clothes.

ACT V.

I do not mention clothes.

ACT VI.

No you didn’t but I do.

ACT VII.

Yes I know that.

 

Part XXXII.

ACT I.

He is tiring.

ACT II.

He is not tiring.

ACT III.

No indeed.

ACT IV.

I can count them.

ACT V.

You do not misunderstand me.

ACT VI.

I misunderstand no one.

 

Part XXXIII.

ACT I.

Can you explain my wishes.

ACT II.

In the morning.

ACT III.

To me.

ACT IV.

Yes in there.

ACT V.

Then you do not explain.

ACT VI.

I do not press for an answer.

 

Part XXXIV.

ACT I.

Can you expect her today.

ACT II.

We saw a dress.

ACT III.

We saw a man.

ACT IV.

Sarcasm.

 

Part XXXV.

ACT I.

We can be proud of tomorrow.

ACT II.

And the vests.

ACT III.

And the doors.

ACT IV.

I always remember the roads.

 

Part XXXVI.

ACT I.

Can you speak English.

ACT II.

In London.

ACT III.

And here.

ACT IV.

With me.

 

Part XXXVII.

ACT I.

Count her dresses.

ACT II.

Collect her dresses.

ACT III.

Clean her dresses.

ACT IV.

Have the system.

 

Part XXXVIII.

ACT I.

She polished the table.

ACT II.

Count her dresses again.

ACT III.

When can you come.

ACT IV.

When can you come.

 

Part XXXIX.

ACT I.

Breathe for me.

ACT II.

I can say that.

ACT III.

It isn’t funny.

ACT IV.

In the meantime.

 

Part XL.

ACT I.

Can you say.

ACT II.

What.

ACT III.

We have been told.

ACT IV.

Oh read that.

 

Part XLI.

ACT I.

I do not understand this home-coming.

ACT II.

In the evening.

ACT III.

Naturally.

ACT IV.

We have decided.

ACT V.

Indeed.

ACT VI.

If you wish.

 

Gertrude Stein
(1874-1946)
Counting Her Dresses.
A Play

fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive S-T, Archive S-T, Gertrude Stein, Stein, Gertrude, THEATRE


August Stramm: Erfüllung (Gedicht)

 

Erfüllung

Meine Sporen frechzen deine Spitzen!
Bläulich kichern die Aederchen fort
In Sicherheit höhnisch
Im
Schimmrigen Weich
Bebige Hügel wiegen Verlangen
Köpfchen rosen empor und steilen Gewähr.
Die Lippe zerfrißt sich!
Golden ringeln Würger hinunter
Und schnüren den Hals zu
Nach meinen Fingern tastet dein Blut
Und siedet den Kampf.
Die Seelen ringen und kollern abseit!
Hoch schlagen die Röcke den Blick auf
Goldhellrot
Rotweichrot
Flamme zischt in das Hirn
Und sticht mir das Schaun aus!
Sinken Sinken
Schweben und Sinken
Schwingen im Sturme
Im Sturm
Im schreikrollen Meer!
Ziegelrot
Ueber uns segnet der Tod
Säender Tod!

August Stramm
(1874-1915)
Erfüllung, 1914

• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: *War Poetry Archive, Archive S-T, Expressionism, Stramm, August


Carina van der Walt: LocHal (gedicht)

 

LocHal
(naar Majakovski)

planten druipen
gordijnen vallen
gewoven in vislijn
zilveren ringen
zilveren haken

vissen mensen van het beton
vangen ze op uit het café à la kroeg
schrapen ze van de dansvloer af
hijsen ze langs de trappen op

mens! ga toch lezen
zoek een woord op
luister naar een lezing
door een oververhit brein
blaas een kubus van glas

kennis is zacht als hout
kennis is hard als staal
BARST
door je eigen glazen plafond

 

Carina van der Walt
Gedicht: LocHal (naar Majakovski)

# new poetry
Carina van der Walt is a South-African born
poet and writer. Since many years she
lives and works in Tilburg NL.
LocHal is a historical Locomotive Shelter in Tilburg
that has been rebuild into a public library.
photo: cvdw2019

• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive W-X, Archive W-X, Art & Literature News, Carina van der Walt, Majakovsky, Vladimir, Photography, Walt, Carina van der


The Salt Companion to Mina Loy

Mina Loy (1882-1966) formed part of the new generation of poets who revolutionised writing in the early twentieth century.

She had personal and artistic links to Italian Futurism and Parisian Surrealism, as well as to individuals such as James Joyce, Ezra Pound, Wyndham Lewis, Djuna Barnes and Gertrude Stein. Working with reference to, but also often against the ideas of these fellow writers, her experimental, witty and inconoclastic poems were both distinctive and arresting.

Since the republication of her poems in 1996-7, Loy has gained in stature and importance both in the UK and the US: her writing is now seen as central to literary innovations in the 1910s and 1920s, and she is often a set author on undergraduate and MA courses. Apart from the collection of essays Mina Loy: Woman and Poet published twelve years ago, there is currently no single book on Loy’s work in print. The Companion will be an invaluable new resource for students and readers of modernism. It provides new perspectives and cutting-edge research on Loy’s work and is distinctive in its consideration of her prosodic and linguistic experiments alongside a discussion of the literary and historical contexts in which she worked.

The contributors include influential and emerging experts in modernist studies. They are Peter Nicholls, Tim Armstrong, Geoff Gilbert, David Ayers, Andrew Robertson, John Wilkinson, Suzanne Hobson, Rachel Potter, Alan Marshall, Rowan Harris and Sandeep Parmar.

The Salt Companion to Mina Loy
Edited by Dr Rachel Potter ,
Associate editor Suzanne Hobson
The Salt Companion to Mina Loy comprises ten essays by leading scholars and writers on the work of modernist poet Mina Loy.
Format Paperback
Language English
288 pages
228 x 152mm
Publication date 17 May 2010
Publisher Salt Publishing
Publication City/Country Applecross, WA, Australia |
ISBN10 1876857722
ISBN13 9781876857721
£19.99

# More books
The Salt Companion to Mina Loy
Literary studies

• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: - Book Lovers, - Book Stories, Archive K-L, Archive K-L, Futurism, Loy, Mina


Poetic Salvage. Reading Mina Loy by Tara Prescott

Mina Loy (1882 – 1966)—poet, artist, exile, and luminary—was a prominent and admired figure in the art and literary circles of Paris, Florence, and New York in the early years of the twentieth century.

But over time, she gradually receded from public consciousness and her poetry went out of print.

As part of the movement to introduce the work of this cryptic poet to modern audiences, Poetic Salvage: Reading Mina Loy provides new and detailed explications of Loy’s most redolent poems.

This book helps readers gain a better understanding of the body of Loy’s work as a whole by offering compelling close readings that uncover the source materials that inspired Loy’s poetry, including modern artwork, Baedeker travel guides, and even long-forgotten cultural venues.

Helpfully keyed to the contents of Loy’s Lost Lunar Baedeker, edited by Roger Conover, this book is an essential aid for new readers and scholars alike. Mina Loy forged a legacy worthy of serious consideration—through a practice best understood as salvage work, of reclaiming what has been so long obscured.

Poetic Salvage: Reading Mina Loy dives deep to bring hidden treasures to the surface.

Tara Prescott is a lecturer in writing programs at the University of California, Los Angeles.

Poetic Salvage.
Reading Mina Loy
by Tara Prescott
Hardcover
292 pages
Publisher: Bucknell University Press
Language: English
Literature & Fiction
ISBN-10: 1611488125
ISBN-13: 978-1611488128
2016
$76.80

# New books
Poetic Salvage
Reading Mina Loy
Tara Prescott

• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: - Book Lovers, - Book Stories, Archive K-L, Archive K-L, Futurism, Loy, Mina


Antonin Artaud: Le Navire mystique (Poème)

 

Le Navire mystique

Il se sera perdu le navire archaïque
Aux mers où baigneront mes rêves éperdus ;
Et ses immenses mâts se seront confondus
Dans les brouillards d’un ciel de bible et de cantiques.

Un air jouera, mais non d’antique bucolique,
Mystérieusement parmi les arbres nus ;
Et le navire saint n’aura jamais vendu
La très rare denrée aux pays exotiques.

Il ne sait pas les feux des havres de la terre.
Il ne connaît que Dieu, et sans fin, solitaire
Il sépare les flots glorieux de l’infini.

Le bout de son beaupré plonge dans le mystère.
Aux pointes de ses mâts tremble toutes les nuits
L’argent mystique et pur de l’étoile polaire.

Antonin Artaud
(1896 — 1948)
Le Navire mystique
Poème

• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Antonin Artaud, Archive A-B, Archive A-B, Artaud, Antonin


Mina Loy’s Critical Modernism by Laura Scuriatti

This book provides a fresh assessment of the works of poet and painter Mina Loy (1882 – 1966).

Laura Scuriatti shows how Loy’s “eccentric” writing and art celebrate ideas and aesthetics central to the modernist movement while simultaneously critiquing them, resulting in a continually self-reflexive and detached stance that Scuriatti terms “critical modernism.”

Drawing on neglected archival material, Scuriatti illuminates the often-overlooked influence of Loy’s time spent amid Italian avant-garde culture. In particular, she considers Loy’s assessment of the nature of genius and sexual identity as defined by philosopher Otto Weininger and in Lacerba, a magazine founded by Futurist leader Giovanni Papini. She also investigates Loy’s reflections on the artistic masterpiece in relation to the world of commodities; explores the dialogic nature of the self in Loy’s autobiographical projects; and shows how Loy used her “eccentric” stance as a political position, especially in her later career in the United States.

Offering new insights into Loy’s feminism and tracing the writer’s lifelong exploration of themes such as authorship, art, identity, genius, and cosmopolitanism, this volume prompts readers to rethink the place, value, and function of key modernist concepts through the critical spaces created by Loy’s texts.

Laura Scuriatti, professor of English and comparative literature at Bard College Berlin, is coeditor of The Exhibit in the Text: Museological Practices of Literature.

Mina Loy’s Critical Modernism
Laura Scuriatti
Hardcover
320 pages
Literature – European
ISBN 13: 9780813056302
$85.00

Available for pre-order.
This book will be available in July 2019
(Pub Date: 5/7/2019)

# New books
Mina Loy
Critical Modernism

• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: - Book News, - Bookstores, Archive K-L, Archive K-L, Archive S-T, Art & Literature News, Futurism, Loy, Mina


Robert Desnos: Jack l’Égareur

 

Jack l’Égareur
À Denise

Dans les trémies du ciel
un archange nage, comme il sied, vers une usine.
Faux-monnayeurs que faites-vous de mes ongles ?
J’ai lu dans le journal un roman dont j’étais le héros
toujours à l’aise quand il fait pluie.
Mon cœur bat l’extinction des feux,
Mes yeux sont la nuit.
Je veille mes lendemains avec anxiété.
Au bout d’un an et deux jours…
alors il se fit une journée de pluie et les sept phares merveilleux
du monde…
Escadres souterraines ne vous approchez pas de mon tombeau :
Je suis employé à déclouer les vieux cercueils
pour répartir équitablement les ossements
entre les anciennes sépultures
et les neuves.
Quelle profession ? Profession de foi tu ne figures pas au Bottin.
Les photographes rougiraient si vous les regardiez en pleurant.
Je suis un mort de fraîche date.
Si vous rencontrez un corbillard déchaussez-vous,
Cela fera du bien au mort.
Il se lèvera,
il se sortira,
il chantera,
il chantera la chanson des quadrilles
et dans le futur on verra les nouveau-nés arriver au monde
escortés de squelettes.
Ce ne seront partout que grossesses de géantes,
Il sera de bon ton chez les élégantes
de faire monter en bague
les larmes solides des morts à l’occasion des naissances.
Amour haut parleur, sirène à corps d’oiseau,
je vous quitte.
Je vais goûter le silence cette belle algue où dorment les requins.

Robert Desnos (1900 – 1945)
Jack l’Égareur
À Denise

fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Archive C-D, Desnos, Robert, Surrealism


Antonin Artaud: Je ne crois plus aux mots des poèmes (Poème)

 

Je ne crois plus
aux mots des poème

Je ne crois plus aux mots des poèmes,
car ils ne soulèvent rien
et ne font rien.

Autrefois il y avait des poèmes
qui envoyaient un guerrier
se faire trouer la gueule,
mais la gueule trouée
le guerrier était mort,
et que lui restait-il de sa gloire à lui ?
Je veux dire de son transport ?
Rien.

Il était mort,
cela servait à éduquer dans les classes
les cons et les fils de cons qui viendraient
après lui et sont allés à de nouvelles guerres
atomiquement réglementées,

je crois qu’il y a un état où le guerrier
la gueule trouée
et mort, reste là
il continue à se battre
et à avancer,
il n’est pas mort,
il avance pour l’éternité.

Mais qui en voudrait
sauf moi ?

Et moi, qu’il vienne celui
qui me trouera la gueule
je l’attends.

Antonin Artaud
(1896 — 1948)
Je ne crois plus aux mots des poème
Poème

• fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Antonin Artaud, Archive A-B, Archive A-B, Artaud, Antonin


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