The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,
as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.

Long ago you kissed the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,

something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.

It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.

No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.

《夢中飛行》 羅智成

在夢中飛行時
你才會短暫記起
這遺忘許久的天賦

當乾淨、冰涼的空氣
以等速迎向你的兩頰
你在極北荒原與起伏被窩之間的
上空
找到你在生命此刻的位置

那是一個幾乎被巨大的比例尺
或是宏觀的經緯度抵銷調的
孤獨感

一部份來自集體潛意識
一部份來自於
被剝奪掉種種能力與夢想權利的
退化物種的….
負疚

會飛，和，不會飛
造成的世界觀是多麼不同阿：
沿著地球區面翱翔
使我們迅速目擊周圍靜的龐然
這是有別於走獸們遲緩的知識的

但再快的速度
也無法把我們帶出夢境的出海口
再高的眼界
也無法讓我們遁逃出
被釘死於二度空間的卑微宿命

在夢中飛行時
我們才會更深層的認識自己
藉由被生命本質的地形面貌
所震攝、挫敗的
驕傲
我們才會明白我們每一個人
原本都隱藏著一個更高的來歷

另，題外話，之前做了一個有關arcade fire的夢。

〈分類之物〉

夜晚簡單地分為有做過和沒做過兩類
早晨分成拉出了甚麼呀和甚麼都拉不出來兩類

笑聲分為猥瑣的和不猥瑣的兩類
憂鬱分為有癒合過和沒有癒合過兩類

美麗分為有效和沒效兩類
醜陋分為是可忍和孰不可忍兩類

北極熊分為很會滑雪和不會滑雪兩類
擁抱分為燙傷和凍傷兩類

詩人分為有愛過和沒愛過兩類
愛人分為寫詩和不寫詩兩類

年少分為被阿過和沒有被阿過兩類
人生分為有爆炸過和沒有爆炸過兩類

死分為有罪和沒有罪兩類
有時候又僅僅是爽和不爽兩類

鯨向海，《通緝犯》，頁180-181

Much madness is divinest sense
To a discerning eye;
Much sense the starkest madness.
‘T is the majority
In this, as all, prevails.
Assent, and you are sane;
Demur, — you’re straightway dangerous,
And handled with a chain.

Emily Dickinson

#ref

繼續討論厭煩 / 夏宇

所以我們必須繼續討論厭煩
厭煩的東西都是厭煩的
任何厭煩的東西都是厭煩的
事實上只有厭煩的東西才是
厭煩的
它不必被發現，它在。
它有一種遙遠而清澈的感覺
有一點瘋狂
也有懷舊和顫慄的情愫
其實也離道德不遠
你要怎麼形容厭煩的味道呢？
只有最老成持重的侍者會說：
「您要怎麼形容橘子的味道呢
我們只能說
有些味道像橘子。」

讓人著迷的不是它的建築物
而是它的癱瘓。有一種瀧涎香。
琥珀色。也不妨甚至
像是一些呆滯的 水管的樣子。
一些牛皮紙袋的樣子。
機緣、回憶、慾望和巧合
的反向下水道的歷史向度之下的城市

那真是一種氣氛的問題
厭煩
接近的印象派
在狂喜最薄最薄的邊上
只有光可以表達
每一個時刻移動的光
那奢侈寧靜那逸樂那膩
是那種以為再也不可能醒來的午睡
接近恐怖主義

接近水泥和砂和鐵
用叉子刮著盤底
剩下一些指甲和皮屑

而並不曾意料的
以傢俱店的形式出現的
店名就叫做厭煩與狂喜的

毫不妥協的低調裝飾
卻是所有的椅子都經過設計──
到了絕不可能回返的境地
那些櫃子虛掩
接近直覺

它們帶來凝聚和沉溺的晚上
主題是自我的可厭
遺棄的不同形式
屏風的無目的結論
以及燈光暴力猶豫不決的裝飾性

誰比誰正確，或者說
誰比誰遠離直線
誰比誰更激進
更富音樂性
更具節慶氣氛
更允許豐富的插圖
和冗長的遊行隊伍

誰更接近一間完美的浴室
誰比較是浴缸
你不能判斷那狂喜或厭煩
誰是軸誰是旋轉

純淨與極致與概括

把酒和食物放在預定的地方
走到街上遇到人
邀請他們來吃飯
然後組織他們
把他們分成好幾隊
使他們3個一組或者
4個一組使他們全部
平行坐好又使他們

排成不甚規則的隊形
使他們拿起同一本書
唸出不同的句子
使他們一三五呈倒立
二四六呈倒立的倒立

要愛他們沒有分別
但要分別與他們做愛
不要干涉他們的生活細節
但發給每人一個插頭
一罐蜂蜜，一段繩子
要不遺餘力給每個人等量的
貓食
但不要給他們貓

要站立於其中絕不可以
特別傾向左邊要稍為消行
發給每個人一張紙
要他們寫不一樣的形容詞
要他們喊出他們當下想的事
再讓他們排成別種隊形
要他們做課間操
當也們的膝蓋半屈的時候
要他們齊聲說：好

當他們問你什麼時候
給我們那隻貓

就給他們一點奇怪的建議
說服他們這些都不是暫時的
要他們忘了貓
再次給他們等量的貓食

其中一定有一個人比較脆弱
對凡事均不能貫徹你就給他拍張照片
讓他比較醒目你單獨跟他說：
來，你把這些畫在牆上貼好然後
把這些抽屜全部打開
然後關好。他做好這些事
不要忘記讚美他

也要照顧其他人的疑慮
讓他們儘可能寫骯髒的信
有一些字不會寫就要他們
寫100遍就開始懂了什麼叫做
「時間過去」就開始說：
噗

人家問你任何問題你回答噗
人家不問你任何問題你不回答
但你說噗你收回椅子收回紙張
拍一下每個人的肩膀說噗
大家一起說噗大家
開始有點高興重新發給
每一個人一本色情小說

你要每個人指出他們最喜歡的段落
在書頁上摺角要每個人
拿出一條手帕要他們想一件
他們最害怕忘記的事情
然後在手帕的一角
打一個結你要求他們把手帕綁在膝上
你覺得美好你覺得純淨與極致與概括而
如果他們又怕忘記你就要他們在另一角
打另一個結
如果他們又還是忘記了
他們的忘記你就把手帕收走
分給每個人一捲膠帶一本地址本
和一個模型小汽車你就蛇行穿過
他們的間隔你不必同時愛他們
但可以同時與他們做愛

如果其中有一個不甚同意
就派他突然出發到
某地搜集資料帶回來罕見的
紀念品但這次不要給他拍照
也不必讚美他

Writing a résumé
, by Wislawa Szymborska

What needs to be done?
Fill out the application
and enclose the resume.

Regardless of the length of life,
a resume is best kept short.

Concise, well-chosen facts are de rigueur.
Landscapes are replaced by addresses,
shaky memories give way to unshakable dates.

Of all your loves, mention only the marriage;
of all your children, only those who were born.

Who knows you matters more than whom you know.
Trips only if taken abroad.
Memberships in what but without why.
Honors, but not how they were earned.

Write as if you’d never talked to yourself
and always kept yourself at arm’s length.

Pass over in silence your dogs, cats, birds,
dusty keepsakes, friends, and dreams.

Price, not worth,
and title, not what’s inside.
His shoe size, not where he’s off to,
that one you pass off as yourself.
In addition, a photograph with one ear showing.
What matters is its shape, not what it hears.
What is there to hear, anyway?
The clatter of paper shredders.

thanks lukhnos for forwarding this poem

一條魚的生活
充滿了漏洞
流水的漏洞啊泡沫
那是我的言說
　　
借來方向
醉漢穿過他的重重回聲
而心是看家狗
永遠朝向抒情的中心
　　
行進中的音樂
被一次事故所粉碎
天空覆蓋我們
感情生活的另一面
　　
借來方向
候鳥掙脫了我的睡眠
閃電落入眾人之體
言者無罪

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日光節約時間結束，所以我又莫名其妙的多了一個小時。看見有人因為slam poetry的keyword跑來這裡，那有機會我就開始慢慢介紹甚麼是slam poetry.

Like all other slam poetry/spoken word piece, this following poem is great by listening to it. Try to read it yourself. Or just go out for another slam poetry party.

from The Spoken Word Revolution, page 18-19, Sourcebooks, 2003

by George David Miller, The Suburban Poet, President of the Before I read This Poem, Inc.

[update : 剛剛才想到某台的tagline --- Poetry is puked, not plotted]

Before I read this poem, I want to tell you somethings
About myself.

I know — I’m like you
I can’t stand this confessional poetry crap
The inner recesses of the soul and all that.
I think the more you say
The more you hide from others and from yourself.
Nietzsche said nobody ever wrote an authentic
Autobiography.

My life isn’t a poem
It’s a clearance sale at Wal-Mart
Buying all the Easter stuff
At half price
The week after the big rock is supposed
To have been moved from the cave

While I’m always late for big sales,
I’m always right on time for the trivial things of life:
Mowing the lawn
Picking up the kids at soccer
Making sure the bras are snapped before they’re placed in
The washer
Buying tampons with half-price coupons.

I always feel like I’m relief pitcher
In the bullpen
Waiting and waiting and waiting
To get into the big game
For the big moment
But that big game
And that big moment
Don’t come for me

Or I’m the kid playing Candy Land
Who gets all the way to Ice Cream
At the top of the board
And then gets the Candy Canes card
And has to go back to the beginning.

My life is an endless series
Of trivial foreplay
It’s like those advertisements
For the abdominal wheel
That is supposed to give you a six pack
Like Adonis
But two months after you bought it
Ends up in the garage as a replacement wheel
For you wheelbarrow.
Or it’s like those religions
That tell us to look inside of ourselves
And we’ll find the kingdom of God
But when we look inside ourselves
Which we always imagine to be
A golden chateau in the clouds
All we find is a raised rance
In Bolingbrook.
It’s like the glistening glamorous
Face on the barstool
At the beginning of the evening
That by the end of the evening
Is a mirage of mascara
Dirty rivulets streaming down
Her cheeks.
Or it’s like the vociferous promises
Of politicians
Becoming the casual compromises of
Diluted legislation.
It’s like the beautiful rooms
On Home and Garden television
That you try to emulate
But end up having
Someone finish for you

The big moments of life are not:
When the walls of Jericho tumble
When Haley’s Comet sparkles across the sky
When a knockout punch fells a fighter
Or when Sissyphus’ boulder finally goes over the hill.

The big moments of life
Are not when the boulder clears the ridge
But when we tie our shoes
Spit on our hands
Take deep breaths
Flex our muscles
Focus all our energy
And do it all over again

Realizing
Each moment is history
Each moment is passion
Each action is meaning

With Big Mac breath
Tide scented clothes
And a Wal-Mart fanny pack
We can still raise our arms
To the heavens and scream
“I’ve lived, I’ve lived” —
Carving epic lives
From ordinary moments.

And that is the whole meaning of life
To be able to look to the heavens
And scream “I have lived, I have lived” —-
To have carved epic lives
From ordinary moments.

This is my life — and it’s your life too
This is my poem — and it’s your poem too.
And you still don’t know me
And I still don’t know myself.

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Introduction to Poetry / by Billy Collins

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.

# Library of Congress, poetry 180
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