Monday, 27 April 2009

Day 27


God and I are kicking it at the cemetery
in the long grass like the misplaced memories of the dead.

“Why did you ever let go of my tongue?” I sigh,
and he rubs my back like one who’s been there.
“I mean, I tasted all that messy unedited love
and it was good, so props to you on that one,
but after all the structures fall you need to learn again.”

He gives a sympathetic half smile
and takes a drag, careful not to blow the smoke heavenward.

“And of course, post-structure I end up with Derrida,
not so much gymming my brain as beating it with weights,
writing on people’s faces and pets and cereal
because I thought that everything must also be a pad.”

The look implies he’s about to speak, but hell,
I’ve not yet finished and who’s he to get impatient?

“Have you ever balanced Derrida’s bibliography on your back?
I tell you, it makes it damn hard to write. And even
if I could, I’d fucking deconstruct
Every Single Word
until nothing didn’t even mean nothing.”

My eyes still ache from all that reading:
two rotten apples attached to my brain.
God, who obviously knows this, simply shrugs;
I told you so, the way he’s standing says.

He flicks his cigarette and fixes his hair.
“You think you’ve got it bad?” comes the word.
“Every time I go to get changed up there,
I find that sneaky bastard Nietzsche has stuck
another sticker on my back saying:
It’s not the fact Eve ate the apple that bothers me,
it’s the idiots who came along later and turned wood to paper.
Ever since then all I seem to hear
are people who’ve overdosed on cheap black ink
complaining about how meaningless meaning is.
Christ, I’d never have stuck you to that cross
if I’d known how poisonous teaching in general can be!”

With that he grunts and leaves me where I stand,
muttering to himself like those who pretend
to hear him in their dreams.

On his way out he passes Hardy’s grave
and –spitefully I must add – destroys it.
“I’ll give my best to Emma,” I’m sure he scowls.

God knows what I’ll do, I think, then correct myself.
I reluctantly take out my copy of Writing and Difference.


  1. I like this one. Alot. I may tell you why. Sooner or later. If i remember not to forget...

  2. Ironically, i must add, that in order to post that comment the verification made me re-type 'glue up'.