(Translated from the French by David Gascoyne)
The feet of morning the feet of noon and the feet of evening
walk ceaselessly round pickled buttocks
...
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I won't pretend to understand this poem in a way that I can articulate. I do enjoy it, because it is odd and it forces me to scramble the logic in my brain. I don't think it is a nonsense poem, like Lewis Carroll's Jabberwocky. I believe that Jean Arp wrote this piece with intention and meaning, even if the intention and meaning are private and personal. I rather admire lines like *consequently the lion is a diamond*. Why not?
The paper it was written on has more value than the words written...........Absolute crap!
...you don't want to know what surrounded by such delicate bliss, just keep the bliss coming...
A perspective opens another perspective, another perspective opens another perspective and another.... Perspective proceeding towards infinity. Content yet keeps untouched. Sometimes it feels undressing is better than dressed up. Sometimes it feels buttock is more valuable than passing moments where moments keep its feet, nails, teeth and the whole struggle of expressing an idea to communicate with..... Piano or lioness, which one is more precious yet to be defined long.
a mouth opens within another mouth and within this mouth another mouth and within this mouth another mouth and so on without end