Here is the fracture: between the o and the v. A crack, a fissure where brilliant bliss breaks out between the walls of language and bathes me in blinding light, in excess.
Here is the x-ray of the soul, glimpsed only through the body in extremis: through skin, through meat, through bone, and beyond.
The void where namelessness makes us gods, mute in the roar and hiss of our own conflagration, where I choke on you, and yet survive to write about it.
(Upon reading Roland Barthes’ “The Pleasure of the Text” again)
Madeline..I just read the description on Amazon of “the Pleasure of the Text.” I’ve put it on my TBR list. Thank you/
Michael
Yeah… I think I need to do the Barthes module next year… I’m clearly missing something and I really want it.