9/01/2011

Neglecting Cendrars


I feel I have been neglecting my Cendrars for too long. The iconoclastic poetry of the man with one arm has always fascinated me deeply. He is the first real modernist in a way. No wonder Henry Miller worshipped him. Reading him in translation is always tricky. He masters French in a way that makes my heart rejoice.



Journal

Christ
There goes another year in which I haven’t thought about You
Since I wrote my penultimate poem Easter
My life has changed so much
But I’m the same as ever
I still want to become a painter
Here are the pictures that I’ve done displayed here on the walls this evening.
They reveal to me strange perspectives into myself that make me think of You.
Christ
Life
See what I’ve unearthed
My paintings make me uneasy
I’m too passionate
Everything is tinted orange.
I’ve passed a sad day thinking about my friends
And reading my diary
Christ
A life crucified in this journal that I hold at arm’s length.
Wingspans
Rockets
Frenzy
Cries
Like a crashing aeroplane
That’s me.
Passion
Fire
A serial
Diary
No matter how much you try to stay silent
Sometimes you have to cry out
I’m the other way
Too sensitive