“To begin with, he would know nothing”
– Maurice Blanchot –
I was just wondering how we might use the abilities of language to end talk.
The silence of a raised hand, yet still a sign.
“To begin with, he would know nothing,”
in other words, a not-even-what that cannot be known.
The same one-of-us who “to express the ineffable” : a wisdom in oxymorons.
What I strove for as an end.
“You go further into the blank paper” (L. Levis)
Perhaps with no further to go, unless there’s another side. A side that is empty. Which side is that?
Two hands, almost transparent, indecipherable and meaning.
When she says “yes” or “now,” he hesitates. Pause created by language. A ruin.
Some vaccine made of words? Is that a poetry? A philosophy or wisdom?
I’ve heard musical compositions that seem more silencing than sound. Breeze over stone.
No one heard. I was writing.
“To begin with, he would know nothing” (something silent, attributed to a name, representing a person, whom no one could find).
Antidotes. Self-negation. Freudian dreams? Something curing itself…ministered in doses. It’s dangerous.