Lesson on method — Helmut Heissenbuttel
for the Stolterfoht bookshop -Lisi Drascher and Pym Stolterfoht — transalted from textbuch 11
Rhythm flows from one gem-adorned phrase to the next; however much we may think, the music carries us, and that has nothing to do with cracking codes
the title of this piece is the title of this piece doesn’t matter
Work developing a life of its own, a life of its own kind, not necessarily what the author planned
lower boundary: body; upper boundary: dance; lower boundary: dance; upper boundary: speech; lower boundary: speech; upper boundary: music; lower boundary: music; upper boundary: mathematics; a desire for learned matters
the refusal to be the God of the written word invents readers
I must reread several times until I know what I mean; only after a while does the fact I was striving for return
symbiotic poem
music of the blood calls cellar door
obsessed with metamorphosis
seascape mingles with landscape
I am not one to bring together but for metaphors if they are not dissimilar, they exist
where do leopard and dragon come together? that is the constellation leopard glowing, spotted the summer river beneath why constellation
interest in collecting strange words unusual spaces free-flowing punctuation
Punctuation as action
the innocent eye
precedence of the eye over the erring brain poem beginning the
I am a crocodile dil half man half horse
how do you catch such a bird, caller
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even if he is responsible for his words, he is not for their arrangement
doves of the imagination, clusters of the imagination, clusters of dove-clusters imitated
the sleeping mind of the verses writes, stores golden words within them
old in a greenhouse, sometimes sings; superior thoughts foster quotations
Redskins of the West speak older grammar than those of the East Tongues lark-wings when no Redskin craves white wisdom in a red tongue
near him, wages when near him, life when near him, a lowly door, together
unveiling only a foreboding future Iron horse, I see them scratching Swan or stork Fish wriggling in the weir We are ensnared by our knowledge
Words work together to generate meaning
Bitch through stallion from bitch
Wind Yahweh Iyyob
what I have written is not planned; if it takes shape, that is the return to the beginning; it has themes where it digresses; if it has unity, then that which precedes follows
make it clear that the nooks and crannies of the poem are the places where its essence resides
every author writes a long poem whose text he is not fully aware of, whose recurrence follows him, cradle and drink of its source, which is its cadence; he has gone
I am someone who is needed but not wanted
he had gone out of fashion without ever having been in it
more and more a living fossil
night upon the face of white rock, lake; then I said, I live forever
tear-poisoned eye
Aaron’s rod
what have you of the boats out there or the lights, always the same lights and boats, evening after evening
how much one is needed, however, is very hard to perceive in all these years





