Home > Work > Wheel with a Single Spoke: and other poems
1 " Tell me, if I ever caught youand kissed the arch of your foot,wouldn't you limp a little after thatfor fear of crushing my kiss? … "
― Nichita Stănescu , Wheel with a Single Spoke: and other poems
2 " Jacob Battles the Angel: Or, On the Idea of "You"I.That which is furthest from me,is being closer to me,is named “you.”See how I came to wrestle with myself.In me wrestled “you,”“you,” eyelid, you wrestled,you, hand,you, leg, you wrestledand though I was lying down, I ranaround and around my name.Only to myself can I not say “you.”Everything else, including my soul,is “you.”You, O soul.II.– You laughed.I denied it and said:– No, I didn’t.For I was afraid.But he said, Yes, you did.And truly, the name,leaninglike my body washis oaken cane,hurled itself against him,the one without a name,the one nothing but body,against “you,”the body of all names,against “you,the father of all names.But hewhen the dawn poured forthstopped thinking of me.He forgot.III.– Change your name, he said.I responded: I am my name.– Change your name, he said.I responded:– You want me to be someone else,you want me to be no more,you want me to dieand be no more.How can I change my name?IV.He said:– You were born on my lap.I have know you since you were born.Do not fear death,remember how you werebefore you were born.For that is what you will be after you die.Change your name.V.– You cried.I denied it and said:– No, I didn’t.For I was afraid.But he said, Yes, you did,and stopped thinking of me.He forgot.VI.I am only my name.The rest is “you,” I told him.He didn’t hear me, for hismind was elsewhere.Why else would he have said:You wrestled the word itselfand won!Was he the word itself?Is name word?… He who is only “you,”you and you and you and you,who surrounds my name? "
3 " Ars PoeticaI taught my words to love,I showed them my heartand would not give up until their syllablesdid not start to beat.I showed them treesand what words wouldn't rustleI hanged, without pity, from the branches.In the end, wordsneeded to resemble both meand the world.ThenI came to me,I braced myself between two banksof a river,to present a bridge,a bridge between a bull's horn and grass,between black stars of light and earth,between the temple of a woman's head and a man's,letting words travel over melike racing cars, electric trains,only so they could cross faster,only so they would learn to transport the world,from itself,to itself. "
