Act of Mourning: Exhaust While Mother Dies

 

 

diary exhausted and worried about the pace I'm keeping - but then trying

to work diary nerve-wracking exhaustion; we're supposed to go to Pennsyl-

vania to see my diary tice I repeat myself in this diary - issues of

exhaustion, worry, prepar- diary Tue Oct 19 201441 EDT 1999 I want to

write about exhaustion, this almost diary as usual, exhausted as usual,

moody as usual. Been reading Giorgio Agam- diary provincialism, exhaus-

tion, ennui, and a tiny corner of the world that diary exhaustion seems

literally completely, my body _bone_ tired. diary I am very exhausted.

I'm looking at a book of Japanese emaki, picture diary fantasy, exhaus-

tion is very very real. I tremble; my muscles ache. I can diary point of

exhaustion. Right now the loft is absolutely quiet; there is diary

extending the idea clumsily, as if I can no longer think, too exhausted

diary of things, trying not to forget anything. It's been exhausting. No

real diary rising and falling, staying awake, feeling dizzy, getting

exhausted again, diary of that, I will die from exhaustion if I resonate

in such a fashion, I diary of Kanji, trying to memorize things. The

difficulties have exhausted me; diary have nothing to say, have exhausted

myself. My interests range from the diary well. So went back online to

Trace, all this exhausting, and I am there diary until the exhaustion

ends - by January 3 once again, we'll be full deep diary too deeply

exhausted to say anything intelligent but wonder if I'm fever- diary in

with his wife. My exhaustion has deepened which worries me. I wrote to

diary I can be of use without exhausting myself. diary to be the result

of exhaustion; the last few days, the nightmares have diary twilight zone

and get tired of exhausted or grown-up friends. Reading diary control -

just completely exhausted, compounded by the usual worries about le sleep;

always exhausted, my judgamant ls not of tha bast. Thls ls my world le My

writing veers through tired Jennifer, exhausted Nikuko, worn-out Julu, lf

I am very exhausted. I'm looking at a book of Japanese emaki, picture lf

fantasy, exhaustion is very very real. I tremble; my muscles ache. I can

lf ly to exist as a token for the diffused or exhausted, the turbulent.

Nei- lg 10344 Nikuko lies exhausted on a blanket wearing a pink tutu lh (

nikuko lies on the couch, naked, her body twitching, exhausting from lh

ennui, out of exhaustion and detumescence, out of irritation lh warmer;

Nikuko, exhausted, fell back down into a deep sleep, enlightened, lh

exhausts itself, everyone is exhausted. lh exhaustion, as if waking from

dreaming to work. returning to dream, or lh the torii, and seemed exhaus-

ted. Nikuko said, Look, it sees no land, even lh end of allocated block,

memory exhausted, memory exhausted, memory is lh Why can't I sleep? I walk

around exhausted every day. I'm like a zombie; memory exhausted sleep pos-

sible, the exhaustion without bounds. Alan tries sleep remedy neurotic and

insomniac typing away exhausted at a midnight computer

 

 

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unclearness of wounding

 

 

through my mother's death (which she no longer possesses),

 i have determined (as has been determined for me):

 that there is only one death; that this death has no number;

 that it is lived once; that it is harbored as a secret illness;

 that it is coveted in secret; that it comes but once, remains;

that there is only one passage, one text, one whisper;

that nothing is of import; that cathection is cathected;

 investment invested; meaning meant and maintained;

that death is no example; that memory declares, withdraws;

 that death is always for the living; that living death is

 constancy; that annihilation is the value of a world;

that negation is a token; that ipseity struggles with the angel;

 that writing is of the suppurated body; that skin is wound;

 that wound or illness have no death (i.e. have nothing to do

 with death, or continue past the death of the individual - or

 that wounding and illness are continuous - the text is unclear)

 

 

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unclearness of writing

 

 

the text is unclear (that I have written an unclear text; that I don't

understand the text I have written; that the text which has written itself

through me is unclear; that these reasons and motivations, results and

phenomenologies, are unclear); that the text is blurred, confused; that

the text is unreadable; that the letters themselves are unreadable; that

the lines are askew; that the referents are unknown or peculiar; that the

referents are one-to-many; that the text is far too abstract; that it

references things, persons, or events totally obscure (that I have gone

into hiding; that I am uncertain of my meaning; that I am drawn to the

unknown or obscure; that my thinking itself is askew; that I employ un-

clear writing as a defense or strategy; that I am asserting something I do

not seem to be asserting; that my real intent and content are elsewhere);

that it goes elsewhere; that it goes without saying

 

 

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Department of Language

 

 

Put to death anyone working in the Department of Language.

Our motto is death to anyone working in language.

This order which shall not be countermanded applies on every level.

Those in charge of referents deserve our special attention.

Language shall not be tethered with any relation to the real.

Let death be quick for those concerned with antiquity and adjectives.

Let those compiling concordances die the slowest death of all.

Our motto is let the work come swiftly to an end.

Not language but workers shall become a memory written in language.

This order is against the possibility of survival.

Not libraries but librarians shall be slaughtered as well.

Libraries are not tethered to the Department of Language.

The trouble with libraries is the records of every department.

Let the records be freed and released and leave the libraries alone.

Our motto is release the records and release the librarians.

Our motto is only the Department of Language but never the libraries.

This order shall not be countermanded.

 

 

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i have a secret sorrow. it shall last the morrow.

death is constant harrow. bones are robbed of marrow.

pain is hardly thorough. vision stays to burrow.

daylight remains fallow. graves are always shallow.

signs are drawn by willow. tears erase the pillow.

mining tends to wallow. life like this is hollow.

call upon the medic. ask about the phallic.

go into the middle. freak and dance the fiddle.

try your pain to cuddle. realize the muddle.

open up the bottle. find your dream in candle.

look upon the handle. move out to the window.

think you're dressing retro. think of secret sorrow.

it shall last the morrow. death brings secret sorrow.

bones are wrapped in marrow. pain is hardened sorrow.

vision leaves in barrow. daylight turns to sorrow.

graves are lean and narrow. signs are born in sorrow.

tears are thin and pallid. mining brings out sorrow.

life is never hallowed. signs are born from sorrow.

 

 

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red dust

 

 

red dust fills all the crevices

you can't sweep it out ^ can't sweep it in

gathering in bundles ^ rippling across floors

through windows sashes cracks in earthworks bricks

red dust fills ears and eyes

sounds of marrow bone compressed papers inked

symbols dried in red dust ^ hands washed of it

across backs in the sun red dust seepings

streams of red dust gathering in bowls of water

red dust skimming surfaces ^ you can't clean it

can't be through with it ^ one way or another

red dust fills your mouth speaking red dust words

names and places sometimes making grammar

you can't forget its name ^ it hasn't any

you can't speak it ^ your mouth's full of red dust

 

 

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fragment

 

ginelle bringing the flowers, sprigs of holly, tulips, to

ginevra dancing in white toga beside tree with laughing

ginger! who shall go the distance, cross the brook for

ginni, running in the distance near the mountain shadow?

ginnie shall go, shall run and skip so merrily, and

ginnifer will go as well, carrying baskets of flowers!

ginny, shall you go with me, dance beneath the maple tree?

giorgia, will you go as well, gaily dancing by the pool?

giovanna bringing streamers, smart fruit from lovely

gipsy, singing! as the sun begins to set, dark svelte

giralda steps forth, crying as soft shadows deepen.

 

 

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Y-Tao

 

 

Of not, none; of none, not; of memory, none; of memory, not; of saga, none

; of saga, not. Tao is of language and anecdote, not; of myth and mythos,

not; of parable, not; none of epistemology. Of theory, not; of knowledge,

not; thus of early worlding perfect and purity, not; no thus; of scaffold-

ing, none; of thinking perfect and pure; of thinking, not. Tao is perfect

pure. Tao moves not against and against not. Tao speech is perfect is pure

speech. Tao is perfect there not there. Of living, not: none of living.

 

Crawl hanged_woman of living, none dirt-eaten through, of not, none; of

none, not; of memory, none; of memory, not; of saga, none; of saga, not.

 

 

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i am:: red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost

red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust

hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry

ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost

red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust

hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry

ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost

red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust

hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry

ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost

red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust

hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry

ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost

red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust

hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry

ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost red dust hungry ghost

red dust hungry ghost

 

 

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For my mother, Evelyn Weiss Sondheim

 

 

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© Alan Sondheim