Tuesday, March 24, 2009

I'm in mourning for the integrity . . . I find in Homer & Dante & Racine & sometimes Rimbaud, the integrity of the eyelids coming down before the brain knows of grit in the wind.

7 comments:

yogacephalus said...

Beckett

yogacephalus said...

Which makes me think...mourning, really?

Ahab Cloud said...

A pun perhaps?

yogacephalus said...

This was written while he was still wandering through the mess of trying to figure things out for himself--so whether intentional or not, yeah, maybe.

yogacephalus said...

Q. How different would Beckett's aesthetic have been if he knew how to make, and maybe even enjoyed small talk?

A.

Ahab Cloud said...

More weather, less feces.

yogacephalus said...

More feather, less winces.