Читать книгу The Lichtenberg Figures - Ben Lerner - Страница 10

We must retract our offerings, burnt as they are.

We must recall our lines of verse like faulty tires.

We must flay the curatoriat, invest our sackcloth,

and enter the Academy single file.

Poetry has yet to emerge.

The image is no substitute. The image is an anecdote

in the mouth of a stillborn. And not reflection,

with its bad infinitude, nor religion, with its eighth of mushrooms,

can bring orgasm to orgasm like poetry. As a policy,

we are generally sorry. But sorry doesn’t cut it.

We must ask you to remove your shoes, your lenses, your teeth.

We must ask you to sob openly.

If it is any consolation, we admire the early work of John Ashbery.

If it is any consolation, you won’t feel a thing.