A cut-up poem assembled from the scraps of Bartleby, the Scrivener
“Are you looking for the silent man?”
I am one of those touched.
I said something,
something in question.
“What do you think of
uneasiness?”
But he answered not.
He remained as ever,
a fixture in my chamber.
It might be,
I perceive,
his faults in myself;
the poor, pale, passive mortal.
Computerized Capitalist Aesthetics, Optimism, Sex, and Anxiety in the November 1988 issue of PC Magazine. Giddy-up.
“I’m with you! Here’s to Ourselves!”
Millions of eyes
Cover the ground
Your footsteps follow
You cannot recall where
The routes of the swallows
Who cut the air
Their wings a
wilderness of mystery
Thieves, illicit lovers
Grazing a pinnacle
Guttural howls
From cellars and lofts
Meet me there
Where at the lapis gate
Leaving the city
Riders sing soft
I simply want to be back home
a-eatin' flap-jacks, hash, and ham
With folks who savvy whom I am!
I did this before with and old issue of Black Cat and text by Diego Rivera and Andre Breton, and now here’s another situationist intervention. This page comes from Movie Comics of February 1947 and some text from Walter Benjamin’s One-Way Street: And Other Writings.
C.B. Crenshaw 