outwait outrun outwit





TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile


03.04.10

This week I suffer from an excess of feeling, in danger of penning sonnets in a post(post?)modern age. So refrain from the purple inkwell, please.

Instead, why not a compost-modern structure? Not simply recycling, collage or pastiche, but a metabolic breakdown of finite materials, i.e. their simultaneous decomposition and renewal, even if what is renewed is unrecognizable. In the metamorphosis, I may glean or glimpse the infinite, before it conceals itself again.

We can't return to old consonants of pain and disappointment, nor should we deny their palpable presence.





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