The Fractured Egg #4

Steve Dalachinsky
January 2015

the good life  /  or a bad i.o.u. – the age of the poets

aka waiting for badiou  /  or badiou saved from frowning


i was invited but i wasn’t invited with a gold star

this is the logic of the world

or terror monkey dew   or carob critique

or emancipated & overdue machinery

escriving passages in a book of integral exceptions

the cruel order of sex gods

thinking broad autonomous interlocking truths

the autonomy of thinking (takes)

sharpening blocks defeating contemporary tasks

the coming into being as (idea as thought) you seem precise

to know me better than myself     particularly EMANCIPATION

i  mean                                                                         ANTICIPATION

high priest           low priest


the destiny of thinking  /  similar goals

new forms of happiness       is happiness possible in language?

& beyond language   to discover old texts   / beyond language

& the proletariat have only their bodies to use

old old faces >

the bones of a very old beast

& then everything goes to HELL

philosophy transforms subjectivity

FINALLY   there is the preferred ENEMY – who/what is yours?

television polemics  – hope / platonic vs. aristolian ideals / literature

the enemy of one / academia the invention of the other

tho one’s enemy can be one’s secret best friend

where exactly do psychos fit in here?

interior dystopia or dyspepsia

intermediate specifics / production modes  / division of figures

distorted elements created – no – borrowed / reviewed

again referring bones – politics – triangles – utopian transformation


essentially common to all desire

                                              given        –    nostalgia

too much divisionalism

militant  4/5/6  – liberation – illusion   (democratic gestures)

language given to all  > as miracle > as name > as nothing

poetry is the thought of the thought that it is

subtraction – operation  – articulation

dialogue – mathematics – all starting with mathematics – universality of


subjective struggle based on radical conviction

the finite made of infinite things  – the difference between work (ouvre)

& ambition – to accept profound contradictions

gooldi ifeus es   >   subject peace with the world as it is /

to make a good place in the world  / to seek happiness  /

& the unattainable

my wife whispers in my ear –

i wouldn’t use the word happiness – i’d say



she points down east 2nd street toward ave d as she rounds the corner

toward ave a

her high heels clicking on the drenched pavement –

“oh my god” – she screams with excitement – this looks exactly like Paris –

St. Germain”

THE GOOD LIFE – i think – soaking up the rain.

– written during and after alain badiou at nyu mason francaise

* * *

Emile Bernard  @ L’ Orangerie


he marches with daisies growing
from his crotch
the longer she waits for his return
the more rotten & shriveled the plums become
they sit in the plate     green/red/brown

he sees the style & not the object
what he lacks  the others contain
what he contains  the others lack

(there is a hint @ expressionism in there)
he anticipates the future
he is amazing in an un-amazing way
he is too much on the surface
he is an inventor/owner of styles /
but lacks the vision to follow through
on his vision
others older than he expand outward/inward
from these inventions


he is too conscious of being a painter
of wanting to be a painter       he is too self-conscious
he needs to master the eternal tradition
of routine & negation   of hybrid deviations
a master at nothing at all – he give up
while the others concentrate on creating
something new    for themselves
while never displaying  the self
he actually needs to prove to himself
that he can paint    (in the great western tradition)
not faux japonais  / not folk art /     but classicism
he abandons/sacrifices /  his SELF to become himself/
a traditionalist – reverts to the past
(RAPHAEL or was it RUBENS)
he gives up his concentration on
creating something (new)
his consciousness turns outward

“He sucks with his blacks”
the American White Guy With the Knee Length
Dreads intones

is there something missing
or something there is too much of?
he slips off the meat with a cheese knife
or is it the other way around?  he is young
he outlives his contemporaries
he abandons the search  /  he becomes old
very old

– paris 9/14,  nyc 12/14

* * *

production values
(for w.a.)

he speaks of language

the circulation of language

of extinct migrating & non-migrating

birds & philosophers

how cities work on distant galaxies

i am preoccupied with the origin of wine

& how it perhaps flowed in comparison to blood

in biblical times

i am pre-occupied with old friends

& acquaintances

& the belly the aging trombonist

has acquired

as well as his well being sanity-wise

& the 2 month old granddaughter of

a long dead friend

acquaintance & drummer

who left us to soon

perhaps for one of those galaxies

though i somehow doubt it

skeptic that i am

i am preoccupied with WE tiny intermingling

cosmos’ / his science way over my head

his poetry when unraveled / flawless

his animal history of a plagued &

nearly forgotten-by-most universe

far beyond my grasp

though intuitively i get every nuance

every “experiment” he puts forth

every       shall we say   potato & tooth

his logic seems too biologically logical

cranial cramping

i don’t feel like a white shirt

or a cup of coffee

tho one of the latter would be nice

about now:

the storm amounted to nothing  –

just another spent life

i’ve lost some of the tension in my strings

tho my manners have gotten worse

& the song tho i don’t recognize it is

Dearly Beloved

even in this poor light it is obvious that we are connected

whether we know it or not feel it or not speak it or not

the child – the horn player – the glass i drink from

the water it contains > no high tension words or circulating language

can deny or dispute this

nor i’m afraid can THEY    or i    or you   prove it either

there is more than one definition for the word  STOOL

whether you are on it or in it

whether you are comfortable / in pain / or comfortable with pain

– one way or another –

there is no belly after the one you carry around with you now

so don’t be so afraid if i put my hand your shoulder.

– nyc, dec 9, 2014,  city winery

* * *

 translation (p.j/p.c.)


i steal from the dead poet

translated by the live one

“the bright candle of hunger

lit in my mouth”

a true poet’s poetry

“a severed ear listening” to itself

a penultimate drowning

adding complexity where there

is none as he asks

“what are angels made of “

what matter do they spring from

what matter / the matter of angels

the patter of their wings     against his one good ear

a gentile trying to mystify a jew

rather than demystifying what might be

hidden there

objecting to the draft   seeping in thru the cold

as a humid afternoon becomes a cold stormy night

the dead weight of numbers

the scabrous scalp

handsome dead narrator

reading explosions

in a monochromatic voice

“the stones stamping shadows on the day”

that not even a clairvoyant can see

escaping thru the 9 candled night

a holiday of light(s)

wild innocence due to great trauma

while the end of the day begins with

his proclamation:

“i am a great artist    because i exist.”

he enters the dark space

puts his good ear against the wall

puts the other in his pocket

falls silent.

– dalachinsky through celan & joris  11/14

* * *

JOHN COLTRANE (for Amiri Baraka)


John Coltrane
A bitter wind blows thru A LOVE SUPREME
& people are still waiting for the Ascension
with their eyes closed teeth clenched & fingers crossed

John Coltrane
old news is still news
assasination integration racism large schism & Africa?
is it still in Interstellar Space?

John Coltrane
the cicadas were buried in my head
long before I ever heard them
Kennedy King X
Kennedy King X
looking at the moon does not seem so strange
you do, John Coltrane, cause me to go on
wandering the Sea of Japan in my Bare feet
does not seem so strange
my language a thing of the past
the star fish & crab in their own universe
my universe does not seem so strange
I want to talk about I want to talk about

John Coltrane John Coltrane John Coltrane
i have taken the leap with you though the impression I get
as the Countdown approaches is that things are still spiralling
downward & are not, John Coltrane, made up of 3 Little Words
Where is the Promise – is it on Mars Jupiter Alabama?
Things are not what they used to be & yet they are
John Coltrane
My grandmother
it was said
sang her own kind of spirituals
while working on some underground railroad in a faraway land
Dear Lord Dear John Coltrane where are our eyes?
Can we open them on a Moment’s Notice?
John Coltrane
it is not we who live this LUSH LIFE
but Life Itself
as Death & the Blues
wait impatiently to follow
John Coltrane
what are WE Waiting for?
The consequence of compassion can be nothing more than
3 Little Words
these 3 little words that too many find so easy to say
Europa – Hollywood – Apple
do you think we will ever give that space? Have that space?
insects serenity joy
Are the Offerings we make all the wrong kind?
John Coltrane
were you living in the crescent of the Void ?
can there really be Peace ON Earth?
do Dawn & Dusk truly intertwine?
the light’s way up now
the shadows too
so I guess they do
we do
somewhere down the line
John Coltrane
always exploring new territories
I am there with you
my voice was mumbling about beauty
long before my lips ever moved

the world is in revolution
has long been in revolution
we’ve only to ask
the SUN

oh John Coltrane
John Coltrane
I haven’t slept again
& I’m sure there are people out there
doing the same thing
barely breathing
waiting for the breakfast wagon to arrive
the air is electric with a new season
another drought has passed
another hurricane
I’m still here
though the cicada’s time has ended
John Coltrane
some creatures suffer so long
for what seems so little
is there really a “GRAND DESIGN” ?
what does a diamond prove ?
John Coltrane
the world is a dangerous place
full of windex cell phones
& fax machines
women washing windows on windy days
comrades serving coffee on clear mornings
with the movement thru the trees
the realist music there is – shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
John Coltrane
it’s all about good food & press passes
John Coltrane
let’s not talk of torture or birdsong
of bondage or passage booked
i’ll acknowledge there’s hope
if you play me another solo
just play me another solo
play me another solo
play me another solo

* * *

BEER/MEAT  – from a prague journal

counter intuitive   to rabbi low(e)
places / things / people/ of interest
cemetery / kolar / golem / armand / kupka /
mucha / rondo cubism (?) / terezin / synagogues (museums) / old ladies
left over from stool days/ nazi / commie / cold / the kosher deli / the
charles bridge /
the old city / sunset / castle / sunset swallowed whole by castle /
downtown / clock / Shakespeare and comp /  write in script whenever
you can / paris of the east is it?

not paris  / NO IT’S PRAGUE STUPID … s.n & i have a few heart to hearts
while eating & climbing his history is incredible – i lighten up internally

prague sunset:
there is one somewhere behind the castle on the other side of the river
where the bridge touches land > it is an old old bridge > an old land an
old river lined with benches of dope fiends & drunks > black africans
dressed as sailors  offering to ferry us (lovers) across / an older sunset >
the greys & pinks of the clouds & their undetermined age > my
toothpaste confiscated @ the airport } i live on DLOUHA it is a long
street / spent 220k’s on a bad overpriced meal / suckered the first night
\ slipped & fell in toilet |

the honest thief                                             the dishonest “nice” guy

has no problem stealing                          has no problem giving you

$5                                                                       $5

but he will give you his                                         but he’ll steal your soul



walks across the bridge otherworldly
view of city from atop the park : not as generously beautiful
as we’d like it to be

spiked naked nuns  /  melody chopin  / kupka’s explosive circles /

alois bilok |
jan zravy / serious light >  artificialism Milan Knizak – meet j.t. very nice
guy takes us to a weird OTB type restauarant  >   destroyed music }}}}}}
[[[[[[ > r.k. & g.s. (who my hatred of is almost uncontrollable at this point)
are now literally sleeping together >

a spider weaves its web on the filigree of the statue hanging over the st.
charles bridge

some people use this as a form of expressionism  /  a street named PARIS
>  lots of blood bad food funnel cake the trains are flying  closely
watched cranes total mess gorgeous synagogues missing worshippers //
no sleep can’t believe it’s sept. already

then dose off and dream: i sneak into a movie theater / wait lying down /
sitting outdoors on a chair / bleed / cancer / nurse / cancer nurse yes\no
sit lie | never got to see the film > snuck in too early ] did get to see the
end of previous film

Janacek Smetana Toyen (woman) Forman Sudek Dvor(j)ak  – “i am making
a film:
i have this incompetent filmmaker  so i get my own camera & do it
the difference between question & answer –  Richard Weiner lived mostly
in Paris
poet – i have never heard of ///  on the glass tomb that encased the
books of the Czech jewish writer there is a small black bug lying
helplessly on its back – i tip it over it slowly crawls away – i’d bet it’s
name is franz > jung freud – ghetto geld / worthless jewish money used
in terezin / irony of ironies :::  Mahler born in bohemia > voice of the
loft-pipe a crate of ashen tefillin  bound up like twisted bolts of lace /
original sin everything goes  perished normalization restoration
restitution escalation manifestation population elements of society are
allowed to display their anti-semetic views / freedom of speech

concentration (camps) foundation tradition

i walk across the bridge yet again walk & walk until i reach the castle

(i REMAIN OUTSIDE/ in) – g.s tries to split restaurant leaving us more
like me with xtra 200k  bill (his share)  – we argue bitterly finally get 100
out of him – el cheapo wins this round

empty bookcases reflected in the dark glass at the HUB > faceless it
comes wrapped in failing foliage / torn soon sleeping appearing dead
lost found lost again the verdigris on the body of the savior where sons
daughters mothers fathers are separated only by their unseen roots >
i am ashamed & have nothing to say (i read phenomena of interference
aloud) a spiritualist a medium Nazarene Villon Straub nocturne first
completely abstract painting / les creations dans les arts plastique the
cobwebs on the mirror rushing water a glass bottom boat is a life of
solitary swans & cacophonous gulls

(now at rest on the stone pier)

a quiet rush of mirrored webs stifled only by the rower’s blue paddle
please yellow jacketed & cloud blue sky \\\ walls folding in on
themselves the cathedral conforming to its own will the line animated
pistils/stamens/ cosmic spring / lines planes spaces a fugue in 2 colors
amorpha the language of verticals  the disc of Newton a study of energy
the proud leopard with her beautiful smile blushing cheeks golden laugh
melodious tomorrow trapped in the dry flowered delta morning as open
as a saint’s breath  salt & banana & 3 days left in the amor-phosizing
palacinky covered therewith ::::: lots of weird bad dreams

dreamt it was 9/7/11 (too close to reality) woke with a chill
bad chill weather changed drastically  i forget what time it was  like in alice in
wonderland i will be late the weather grey cold  damp – late late for a very
(un)important date
rain on & off rehearsal at national gallery synagogues built on the ruins of
other ½ buried synagogues eradication became inevitable >>> b.f. says i
should show compassion for g.s. then drops her computer on her toe –
OUCH  > the sky clears  such a beautiful sky it is  the bridge again
becomes my consolation  clouds beyond what clouds can be — a park
full of peacocks & pigeons
lots of beautiful female trolley drivers – WE RUN PRAGUE
(Nike sign)
Prague Boys Young Hools Sparta Peacocks Felanga – finally meet l.a. >

accident peacocks pigeons rain on & off synagogues buried  but who is
right extinct animals schmoozing kissing intube intimate intimidate ate
done me obsessed idiot  but who is right ?????  washing my face brushing
my teeth while she talks of compassion
a round catatonic family meatballs potatoes chopped schnitzel rice &
finally a truly good meal before i leave….then … morning …anxiety … &

my angel shows up & off i go.


– excerpts from PRAHA


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