D.H. Lawrence, Pansies. 1929

Being Alive

The only reason for living is being fully alive; 

and you can't be fully alive if you are crushed by secret fear, 

and bullied with the threat: Get money, or eat dirt! — 

and forced to do a thousand mean things meaner than your nature, 

and forced to clutch on to possessions in the hope they'll make you feel safe, 

and forced to watch everyone that comes near you, lest they've come to do you down. 
Without a bit of common trust in one another, we can't live. 

In the end, we go insane. 

It is the penalty of fear and meanness, being meaner than our natures are. 


To be alive, you've got to feel a generous flow, 

and under a competitive system that is impossible, really. 

The world is waiting for a new great movement of generosity, 

or for a great wave of death. 

We must change the system, and make living free to all men, 

or we must see men die, and then die ourselves.

 appearance disappearance reappearance

*

The appearance of a man among the trains and waiting people, waiting for the appearance of their world. An appearance somewhere between one train and the next one, between one waiting for the appearance of the next one, disappearing behind each departure, empty carriages and the platform in the darkness. The appearance of a word in the world, amidst thoughts appearing frozen upon those waiting, upon one waiting for a man who might appear, slowly, clothed in snow, between his suitcase and his train. 

The apearance of this man, unannounced, in the thoughts of a woman who is not waiting for him, but who is waiting, who is dressed in a fur coat for winter, who lives amidst desire, who waits while snow falls, while a man appears before her, just arrived. The appearance of a world in winter, lost in snow, no light, slow,  the world appearing cold between the trains, and this woman, running, undone, rushing with blood towards the city. The appearance of a man without desires, who threatens beauty, falling cold upon the ground.

**

The appearance of a woman in the street, between the snow falling on the concrete and her feet, her face lost amongst the snow wet hair upon her head. The appearance of her desire in a word, clouded by branching arms of weather, set upon by the season that clothes her with the appearance of the world with each dawn.  The appearance of the word and disappearance of the world with each breath. Between the woman and the world appears a word, desire. A river appears beside her as she walks, a city appears inside her as she gazes at the wind, leaves floating in the river through her city where she goes to disappear.

The appearance of a body in the river. Branches scratch at the world, breached behind her heart words fall under snow. The city appears frozen into stone, leaves crushed beneath her rushing, breathless disappearing down each street. The body appears cold, appears and disappears with each breath, leaves blown under river through her breast. The appearance of a woman as she walks, as streets of bloody leaves fall through her hair.

***

The appearance of the most reviled prison inside a garden. The dirt begins to fertilise the earth, and the showers fill with climbing ivy. The prisoners bathe in a forest, the garden and the prison disappearing under snow, under branches, layed down with snow.

The appearance of a child pierced by a tree, a face of clouded eyes and snowed in throat, leaves upon the ground inside the childs mouth, an appearance between life, behind a tree. And blood appears as if soaked in cotton wool, cotton wool as if buried in snow, and snow, melted, withdrawing into earth, dispersed by wind. The child stirs, the wind's stirring stirs the leaves and the child appears to breathe, appears pierced by a tree, grown over with ivy.

****

sleep piece. april 2008

Henri Michaux – Clown – 1939