How should I kill in me
the various forms of madness
and be at the same time tender and lucid,
creative and patient, and survive?
the various forms of madness
and be at the same time tender and lucid,
creative and patient, and survive?
- Hilda Hilst, from 'With My Dog-Eyes'
The books lay in stacks on one bedside now.
Almost equal parts children's fairy tales, poetry collections and novels.
The ones atop have gotten their paper coats dented by innumerable teacups
that don't leak but still always leave as if growth rings.
When the white freesias in the glass, that also crowds up there
begin to scent the air, flowering a heady sweetness I otherwise don't
favour, - only then is it really night somehow.
Now, like this, I love its intoxication; as I turn away from stacks of books, son
and man, to meet the cold nocturnal air from the window pulled up open,
with my face open too, and somehow more naked towards the night
than the day.
It's one of the most beautiful things I know, that moment before sleep.
I lay on the inside of what feels like everlastingness thinking about how time rumbles on.
In the room, there's only darkness, the scent of flowery wood and naked breaths.
Outside the large window with its old wavy glass, there's as though
a vaudeville backdrop I've given up trying to do justice with words.
Backyards bathed in an amber light ostensively dreamed up.
In me, there are those words.
How should I kill in me
The limited edition Calendar'19 created for Lemholt N' Bergman
is now sold in its last few numbers with a 50% discount.
Use the code FINALSALE at checkout in our pop up art shop
or follow this link to get half the price taken off
completely automatically (at the last page of checkout).
Almost equal parts children's fairy tales, poetry collections and novels.
The ones atop have gotten their paper coats dented by innumerable teacups
that don't leak but still always leave as if growth rings.
When the white freesias in the glass, that also crowds up there
begin to scent the air, flowering a heady sweetness I otherwise don't
favour, - only then is it really night somehow.
Now, like this, I love its intoxication; as I turn away from stacks of books, son
and man, to meet the cold nocturnal air from the window pulled up open,
with my face open too, and somehow more naked towards the night
than the day.
I lay on the inside of what feels like everlastingness thinking about how time rumbles on.
In the room, there's only darkness, the scent of flowery wood and naked breaths.
Outside the large window with its old wavy glass, there's as though
a vaudeville backdrop I've given up trying to do justice with words.
Backyards bathed in an amber light ostensively dreamed up.
In me, there are those words.
the various forms of madness
and be at the same time tender and lucid,
creative and patient, and survive?
and be at the same time tender and lucid,
creative and patient, and survive?
x
The limited edition Calendar'19 created for Lemholt N' Bergman
is now sold in its last few numbers with a 50% discount.
Use the code FINALSALE at checkout in our pop up art shop
or follow this link to get half the price taken off
completely automatically (at the last page of checkout).
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