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Saturday, April 2, 2011

April 2, 2011

WALT WHITMAN'S POEM TO THINK OF TIME

9:46 AM :  in “to think of time” the awareness of workers' minutes
9:47 AM of time, work, materiality, art
yes Farms, profits, crops, markets, wages, government, are none of them
phantasms,
and even to be able to perceive the unpaid labor of women the pleasure of cities the social nature of work also the nobility of a worker’s death.
the riding crop on the coffin
9:48 AM  and to be born to be identified not diffused that we do not stop at being, but must act to be identified, that even the richest and never working must be "identified"
9:49 AM and distinguished by acts each new birth this possibility

the question "but who are you?" to the infant
all the philosophers who have never thought of this
all  the poets most often unable to see or consider this
the birth of new humans and the minutes and hours of workers!
9:50 AM
"Good day's work, bad day's work, pet stock, mean stock, first out,
last out, turning-in at night, "
9:51 AM
of course no one can see that now. conditions are different.
today a whitman would have to be grotesque
9:59 AM
you are wrong
about whitman now having to be grotesque
or more of one
 do you imagine the material conditions of the 19th century being so much better?
10:00 AM he sat by the beds of young men blown to bits
 their rotting bodies from war
no not at all!
the prostitutes, the workers,  the politics, the slavery, the genocide, grosser, more smelly, less protected devoid of wholesomeness
10:01 AM have you read the accounts of his death?
the records of his bowel movements and urination? as he was shitting and dying
 and also, he imagined in his own reports these diseases, holes, abscesses
 which upon autopsy did not exist, the self imagined pockets of horror
10:04 AM to write at all costs from these ghostly infections
to revise oneself
 as if already dead
that is "inner freedom"
10:14 AM: inner freedom. like what overseers would say to a slave
10:16 AM:
                                   all they want for poetry now

is to be a frayed piece of string 


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