Abaixo meus trechos favoritos de "Manifest Aversions, Conceptual Conundrums, & Implausibly
Deniable Links," poema de Charles Bernstein publicado no seu último livro Recalculations:
"Immature poets borrow, Mature poets invest.
[...]
The work of art 'itself' does not exist, only incommensurable social contexts through which it emerges and into which it vanishes.
[...]
The shock of the new for some, the invigorating tonic of the contemporary for others.
[...]
No pardist goes unpunished because in these times the parodist is pilloried for the views he or she parodies. In a world of moral discourse absent ethical engagement, only the self-righteous go unrebuked.
[...]
I am not the man I was much less the one I will be nor imagine myself as, just the person I almost am.
A bird calls but I hear only its song.
[...]
I'm an observant Jew. I look closely at the things around me, as if they were foreign.
[...]
My mind is a labyrinth with well-lit exit signs; as much as I try, I can't ignore them. When I take leave of my mind I put myself in the care of my brain. In this way, I become again the animal to which my mind is blind.
[...]
Rather than an expression of love, justice is a protection against our inability to love.
We are most familiar with our estrangement; it is our home ground.
The absence of accent is also an accent.
Yet the Dark, untouched by light, injures it all the same."
"Immature poets borrow, Mature poets invest.
[...]
The work of art 'itself' does not exist, only incommensurable social contexts through which it emerges and into which it vanishes.
[...]
The shock of the new for some, the invigorating tonic of the contemporary for others.
[...]
No pardist goes unpunished because in these times the parodist is pilloried for the views he or she parodies. In a world of moral discourse absent ethical engagement, only the self-righteous go unrebuked.
[...]
I am not the man I was much less the one I will be nor imagine myself as, just the person I almost am.
A bird calls but I hear only its song.
[...]
I'm an observant Jew. I look closely at the things around me, as if they were foreign.
[...]
My mind is a labyrinth with well-lit exit signs; as much as I try, I can't ignore them. When I take leave of my mind I put myself in the care of my brain. In this way, I become again the animal to which my mind is blind.
[...]
Rather than an expression of love, justice is a protection against our inability to love.
We are most familiar with our estrangement; it is our home ground.
The absence of accent is also an accent.
Yet the Dark, untouched by light, injures it all the same."
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