Re: Self-Portrait In the Style of Cave Drawing: parental discretion is advised -- Unicorn

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Date Posted: 15:36:34 12/15/03 Mon
Author: Raphaela
Author Host/IP: webcacheB05a.cache.pol.co.uk / 195.92.168.167
Subject: Re: Self-Portrait In the Style of Cave Drawing: parental discretion is advised
In reply to: Ashley Owen Smith 's message, "Self-Portrait In the Style of Cave Drawing: parental discretion is advised" on 22:51:43 12/06/03 Sat

An interesting reflective piece - reminds me of the modernist style stream of consciousness.

Raphaela

>***Inspired by Henri Cole's poem "Self-Portrait As
>Four Styles of Pompeian Wall Painting"***
>
>
>I am simple,
>flesh, bone, blood,
>voiding spirituality would make me dust,
>not just the meat of experimentation,
>the milk of existence,
>a machine of communication, interaction;
>
>As if scratched onto a cave wall
>by an unlearned hand, closest to some supreme being
>by mere placement in time;
>
>I would be supremely just in my attraction
>to other men, exquisitely so, for the wrongness of
>such
>a travesty? abomination? rightness? would be unknown
>as of yet;
>
>I would be the expression of the birth of original
>thought,
>the grating of the rock, the form of the scratches,
>the pictograph
>that ultimately takes shape into the brilliance of
>individuality;
>
>
>(If the perception of oneself is inward-looking, then
>I am constantly outward-looking,
>thinking only of the perception of others, like a
>child in a room in which all the adults are
>his parents, and I must please each one separately and
>brilliantly, or I will be sent to the dungeon,
>otherwise known as collective disapproval);
>
>Was there consciousness to my creation? Or was I
>scrawled hurriedly,
>made chastely, like animal lovemaking, in the
>unbearable need to create?
>
>What god is my stone? What god is the rock that
>scratched me in?
>
>(If the eyes are the windows to the soul, then my
>mouth must be the door: admitting dubious
>phalluses, absolving, in theory, tension with
>tongue-play, allowing them to leave something with me,
>like a salt cube melting on my tongue);
>
>I am white abrasions, lesions, on the skin of
>yesterday;
>I will wait until tomorrow.
>
>
>
>
>AOS~

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