21 abr. 2005

John Hejduk's "Sentences on the House and Other Sentences" is an extraordinary text. It is a series of sentences, each a separate line, with a strong aphoristic, almost Blakean strain. The fact that Hejduk is not considered a poet by the usual measure of such things allows for more latitude--lines that a "real poet" woudn't have written, but the text is richer for them.

You can start anywhere and just quote, as I will now do:

A house contemplates the internal thickness of a fruit in a bowl.
Candlelight is the house's passing thought.
Hail falling on the glass windows of a house is the suicide's afterthoughts.
Angels carry soulfilaments on their wings.
The house searches for its lost occupants.
The house objects to the sea's fluidity.
The sea coaxes the house into its undertow.
God created house to contain man's sins.
A wall anticipates nails being driven into it; paintings cover the punctures.
The knife and fork distanced man's tactility.
A floor carries all the house's vanished footprints.
The sudden appearance of a woman in a door frame takes the breath away.
The bowl receives the soup as a celebration of all concavities.

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