Saturday, September 30, 2006

Rire philosophique de Foucault

A tous ceux qui veulent encore parler de l'homme, de son règne ou de sa libération, à tous ceux qui posent encore des questions sur ce qu'est l'homme en son essence, à tous ceux qui veulent partir de lui pour avoir accès à la vérité, à tous ceux en revanche qui reconduisent toute connaissance aux vérités de l'homme lui-même, à tous ceux qui ne veulent pas formaliser sans anthropologiser, qui ne veulent pas mythologiser sans démystifier, qui ne veulent pas penser sans penser aussitôt que c'est l'homme qui pense, à toutes ces formes de réflexion gauches et gauchies, on ne peut qu'opposer un rire philosophique- c'est-à-dire, pour une certaine part, silencieux.

Michel Foucault. Les mots et les choses. Paris: Gallimard, 1966, p.353-354.

Thursday, September 28, 2006

Web by Don Paterson

The deftest leave no trace: type, send, delete,
clear history. The world will never know.
Though a man might wonder, as he crossed the street
what it was that broke across his brow
or vanished on his tongue and left it sweet

Don Paterson. Landing Light. London; Faber, 2003, p.40.

Friday, September 22, 2006


The rooting apple tree apples rotting
on the wet Somerset earth, their pips dispersing.
It is that pressing time of the year,
when the apples are turned bitter.

The pewtering pulp fed to Cynthia and her Gloucester
old spots, her teat feeding the sucklers, their last meal.
Rolf rabbit clinching on to Flopsy's ears, fathering some little
fiddlers. Jasmin the goat with her coat, an old grey fleece
to keep her from the freeze.
Jack the curious donkey looking
into the tea shop and its customers' chops,
Cynthia's labour from the year before. Crops
still long in the waiting, the harsh winter awaiting.
Love's labour's lost? Heart of the matter.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

translation I.Q

First the eye, then the tongue
then another, then
the pen, then the eye again.
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