EMMA GUNST: September 2011

EMMA GUNST: September 2011

EMMA GUNST: September 2011

Anka Zhuravleva's photograph

C how is life, which is pure principle

sin a precise physical seat

is given form and matter with odor and color

How the unattached is fixed and concrete

in full dense forms, with weight and volume

How light and movement are given to the open retina,

How this is in turn,

A piece of flesh that is able to look

How does it look with fire or meekness,

What mystery resides in the latter within the living

How can you take care of things

and what sense hides all of it

How does it appear between what exists

something like element

What secret love or sympathy

prevents the compound from breaking down

What invisible complicity approaches

What a smiling breath dwells beneath man and sustains him,

Ignorant and perplexed, light and hollow,

on the magma of everything that exists

How does the flower follow the fruit,

that its gentle silk of impalpable sugar The pulp, the bark,

that nourish all the living equally

Who has given to the fruits of their fate, who has arranged for them to have an end

may someone find in it their vigor [...]

How the mystery finds its bones < / p>

And you dress with your flesh and your nerves to the Being

EMMA GUNST: September 2011

How do you reveal it and preserve it,

How does the voice of a throat >

How the flesh is given How the skin is given

In the man who laughs and works,

p>

What is the dream of man every night

And how do you live in peace with that enigma of yours?

as the day went by, and the waking

As if nothing had happened

Tell me, brother who now reads

You know something in your flesh that also knows the moss,

You know the coals of the brazier and the fire, Potatoes that cook, trees and eagle, stone, air, water and all that weighs,

If you move, you are still

/ p>

How can we unlearn everything

of everything learned and unfinished,

p>

What we may know without knowing it

Then the poets could open our throats like birds do

leaving the noise of letters

We would not mind that,

As now generally haunts us,

p> because the principle, the vigorous figures that say what they say without saying,

in things and beings

which mean merely being

>

or whose very being is its meaning,

through us would sing

For all gods, or none.

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