ON THE ILLUSION OF LANGUAGE IN POETRY
Language does not speak through you. You are your own language and what you speak is your other self - not the real one - the other one. Language therefore is only an illusion and should not be considered essential in poetry. What matters is its function and the way YOU assemble the pieces called words. The mechanic of language is simple, because its purpose is to mean. To mean is simple. Not to mean and yet to mean, that is where poetry begins. This is where you (the other you) gets behind the wheel and starts the engine.This is when trouble starts, when the engine purposedly stalls and you have to carry on on foot. This is not a metaphor, by the way, this is an image. When you write poetry, you literally walk on the uneven road of language. And if you want sense, you put up signs. If you don't want sense, you don't put up signs. You decide. Language doesn't. You are never spoken. You speak. The other speaks. You are responsible for him, though. Entirely responsible. And poetry has never been a part of language. Poetry is a tongue. Poetry is teeth. Language is gums. This is not a metaphor, this also an image. Language is nothing without tongue and teeth. Tongue and teeth are nothing without gums and mouth. And mouth is useless without the brain and the head. See? You are the brain and the head of the other. You are his mechanic. You are his poems, his own tongue bitten by his own teeth. Enjoy the taste of his blood, enjoy the song of his tongue. The scream is yours, though. All yours.