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Drum of words…

September 18, 2008

Before I get to Paul Auster’s New York Trilogy, I thought I’d share this bit of early Auster.  Published in 1979 in a little volume of poetry called Facing the Music, this poem, might have been an out-take of a long-lost notebook of Samuel Beckett’s.  Turns out that Auster is the editor of the recent Grove Centenary Edition (2006) of Samuel Beckett. Works out nicely for this month’s reading.

Like SB himself said, “more and more my own language appears to me like a veil that must be torn apart in order to get at the things (or the Nothingness) behind it.”

 

In Memory of Myself  (Paul Auster, 1979)

Simply to have stopped.

As if I could begin

where my voice has stopped, myself

the sound of a word

 

I cannot speak.

 

So much silence

to be brought to life

in this pensive flesh, the beating

drum of words

within, so many words

 

lost in the wide world

within me, and thereby to have known

that in spite of myself

 

I am here.

 

As if this were the world.

 

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