Alexandra Corodan
when I am beset by abjection1,
I speak (write) hysterically from stairs in the sun and non- ergonomic chairs. I speak (write) hysterically in delusion and my voice shakes while I’m reading (speaking) (writing) out loud. I think (speak-write) about the spinach- feta roll I have eaten during a spring and disappeared one page later.
she writes quick no mistakes
in(;coherence and linearity
Beloved guests and beloved pumpkin muffin with cream cheese,
I do not know when to seek you, at which time of the day, before
or after my ice coffee, before or after I lift the leg behind me, a leg I do not see while my upper body contorts, so I push my shoulder in
regulation and open the new window with my drafts that whisper:
oscillation between the first and third person, Verwechslung des
Subjektes.
I do not know who she is when she stares back at me from the mirror, I do not know who she is when I read her texts, writing that feels like shivering, bitten tongues and bruxism. She writes and seeks in repetition, in short phrases and glances that are never whole. she does not know what she looks like, she only feels and there where she feels she is often mistaken.
from the mirror on the wall that dissipates
and tapestry that curls, she glances
And she looks at me between long lashes and eye rashes, porous in
marrow when she writes, so she thinks, but she still sits on the green
chair she ordered because she couldn’t write anymore, she glances in
the green leotard—back naked—from her friend who got sick, as she
knows she would be cursed if she wore her skin.
she who does not prevail but reappears
in the intermittence of each letter and bite from the apple
in the intermittence of each letter and bite from the apple
And the linguist locust whisper
Not me. Not that. But not nothing either.2
1. Julia Kristeva, Powers of Horror, An Essay on Abjection, (trans) Leon S. Roudiez, New York, 1982., p. 1.
2. Julia Kristeva, Powers of Horror, An Essay on Abjection, (trans) Leon S. Roudiez, New York, 1982., p. 2.