Arthur Rimbaud | Vowels

      ARTHUR RIMBAUD VOYELLES A noir, E blanc, I rouge, U vert, O bleu: voyelles, Je dirai quelque jour vos naissances latentes: A, noir corset velu des mouches éclatantes Qui bombinent autour des puanteurs cruelles, Golfes d’ombre; E, candeurs des vapeurs et des tentes, Lances des glaciers fiers, rois blancs, frissons d’ombelles; I, pourpres, sang craché, rire des lèvres belles Dans la colère ou les ivresses pénitentes; U, cycles, vibrements divins des mers virides, Paix des pâtis semés d’animaux, paix des rides Que l’alchimie imprime aux grands fronts studieux; O, suprême Clairon plein des strideurs étranges, Silences traversés…

“Ardent Hope” – Interview with Jean-Luc Godard – Cahiers du cinéma

Source: KINO SLANG   JEAN-LUC GODARD:  …we’re not going to talk about the Théâtre des Amandiers. I’ve no idea what happened there. Nicole Brenez is taking care of it. I wanted to see you, actually. It’s a bit like seeing the great grandchildren of Cahiers du cinéma. I was curious to see what became of them. CAHIERS DU CINÉMA: We were very moved, stunned even, by the film at Cannes, especially the whole ending with “ardent hope” that gave a meaning to this journey through the ruins. The entire first section on the eternal remake of war, then Joseph de…

Lyn Hejinian | From ‘Positions of the Sun’

The book pivots around the disorientation of the “aesthetics of minutiae, with their promise of infinitude”; a pointed and inconclusive protest against an “awareness of orders of magnitude that include atrocity, war, capitalism , and perhaps—though it may be mortality’s saving grade—death.”

Martin Bakero | Militancy of Poets

  The first revolutionary action that people from the Commune of Paris did in 1871, was to break all the clocks of the city. That action engaged the possibility to revolutionaries to go beyond all the limits that reality imposes upon us. Centuries before, the troubadour poets, the “Knights of Joyful Knowledge”, met together once a year to find a new word or neologism in the manner of an antidote for words that limited the freedom of people. One of them was the word “mors” (dead), the poet who were chose for that task, Truc Malec, returns the next year…

Mehdi Belhaj Kacem | Tomb for Guy Debord

Guy Debord was the avant-garde’s Christ. Guy Debord was the avant-garde’s Christ. He was immolated by his own ideology, which he more than anyone (Tzara, Duchamp, Artaud, the Viennese Actionists…) had pushed to its extremes. He covered all of its possibilities, all of its impasses. His extreme attempts were neither successes, nor failures. Today, his path should be evaluated through other methods: the ones left to us in the wake of the avant-garde’s disappearance. To put it as Reiner Schürmann does: truth is a “conflictuality without agreements.” It is within Debord’s insurmountable contradictions, whose political, aesthetic, and existential preoccupations were…

DIE PROZESSE — Ein faktographisches Poem

ENGLISH TRANSLATION (part 1) BY DAVID VICHNAR & TIM KÖNIG ALIENIST 5   “Mehr als 1000 Menschen wurden bereits willkürlich verurteilt und inhaftiert. Und jetzt soll das neue so genannte “Anti-Randalierer- Gesetz” uns auch noch darin hindern zu demonstrieren. Wir verurteilen jede Gewalt gegen Demonstranten durch die Polizei. Nichts wird uns aufhalten! Demonstrieren ist ein Grundrecht. Schluss mit der Straflosigkeit für die Ordnungskräfte! Amnestie für alle Opfer der Unterdrückung!” Aufruf der ersten Generalversammlung der Gilets Jaunes “Ich werde ein Arbeiter sein: Diese Idee hält mich zurück, wenn die wahnsinnige Wut mich hin zur Schlacht von Paris drängt, — wo doch…

Arthur Rimbaud | Illuminations (1872-1874)

AFTER THE FLOOD After the idea of the Flood had receded, A rabbit rested within swaying clover and bellflowers, saying his prayers to a rainbow spied through a spider’s web. Oh what precious stones sunk out of sight, what flowers suddenly stared. On the dirty main drag it was back to business; ships went to sea, piled on the water like a postcard. Blood flowed—at Bluebeard’s, in slaughterhouses, in circuses— wherever God’s mark marred windows. Milk and blood flowed. Beavers dammed. Steam rose from coffee cups in small cafés. The mansion’s windows were still streaming, mourning children within contemplating amazing…