Yesterday I saw a chafer, einen Maikäfer, and this after quite a hard winter. How does it come?

It was a first for both of us. I sensed your difference, your queerness. You had never dared to cross-dress in front of anyone and I had not yet been exposed to anything trans-. When it was dark and silent, hidden from the eyes of the world, you’d transform. Huddled at the back of your father’s shop, I watched in awe and wonder. You feared the streets, both full and empty. Finally, we walked out together.

doch nicht Ereignisse (allein), jedenfalls nicht in der Rezeption Whiteheads von Deleuze in “Die Falte”.
Was ist eigentlich ein Whitehead, ein Weisskopf? Ein Schweizer im Schnee?

May I think of a migration into myself as a sort of translation?
What are the means of this translation from the outside to the inside?
What are the vehicles?
Words, signs, triangles?
Or compasses, machines and sinus functions?
What about male and female, attraction and repulsion, love and hate?

How do you say it in mathematics?

How do you say ‘I miss you’?

How do you say what you cannot, dare not?
Is smuggling numbers into a poem a solution?
Do you hope the numbers will speak clearly of what is still hidden from you?

And so the last part of my seven-part poem reads:

“The azaan woke me at 6:00.
The thunder at 4:00.
The nightmare at 2:48.
From 2:48 to 5:21
I sat and read a Hundred Scottish Love Poems.
You are forty-two
and have three children
from two different women.
My favourite song is on Track 9.
I play it again and again,
keeping demons and darkness at bay.”

How do you say what came before?

Link

Arianna Borrelli: Apples

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