Andrei Bely ~ “Overview of Blok’s poetry”. Illustration to “Lectures about Blok”, 1923. Pencil, coloured pencil and watercolour on paper.
Monday, October 26, 2015
Once upon a time there were no grasses, nor "Earths", nor flints, nor granites; it was - flamy; laminae of flying gas diffused through the Cosmos; the earth was gurgling like a fiery flower; it was developing, confluing from the Cosmic sphere; and these gestures of the fires later duplicated themselves: in the petals of flowers; because of this the cosmic light is - the colored flower of the fields; all flowers/colors are - memories about the fires of the limitless, cosmic sphere; all words are - memories of the sound of an ancient meaning.
Once upon a time there were no concepts in our sense: a conceptual crust surrounded the image of the word; once there was not even the image itself of the word; later the images surrounded the imageless root; previously there had been no root; all roots are - serpent skins; the living serpent is - the tongue; once that snake had been streams, the palate had been - the sail of rhythms, carried along; the cosmos, as it firmed up, became the cavity of the mouth; a stream of air - this dancer of the world is - our tongue.
Glossolalia~ A Poem about Sound 1922
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Monday, January 4, 2010
Now I have wandered long years and many,
Have drowned in the haze of the late afternoon
Until my poor feet are bleeding and heavy,
They must give out soon.
As I lounge in the fumes of the charcoal vapors
Questions pop out, like an unpaid debt,
And someone offers- in a tasty little packet -
And then when I sit with elbows on the table,
Swoonin with awe, merged fearfully
With things not of earth, somebody says
"Here's your tea."
Oh, I am a child of the flame, of the glory,
Visions shine before me all through the night,
But can it be- can it be possible
They will not even know me by sight?