Thank you, Martin. That's his 'major' work, so it follows (but being lit
theory it doesn't always follow, does it).
ab
2009/3/12 Martin Walker <[log in to unmask]>
> Researching the net - I only have a German selection of his writings here -
> I find the above referenced to The Dialogic Imagination: Four essays, ed.
> Holquist - No. III.
> mj
> ________________________________
> From bier to pit
> And be shut in it
> Then lies my house upon my nose
> And all my care for this world goes.
> Anon.
> ----- Original Message ----- From: "andrew burke" <[log in to unmask]>
> To: <[log in to unmask]>
> Sent: Thursday, March 12, 2009 2:58 PM
> Subject: Re: ‘The adventure novel of everyday life’ Bakhtin
>
>
>
> Sorry, Barry, but I just had a Bakhtin 'reader', with essays on him and
> others of his ilk - It was fished out of one of the essays I think. But
> I'll
> ask some learned souls around me, or maybe someone on this list could pin
> it
> down. (It was a uni library book, and I am no longer a member of that
> staff,
> so can't access it.)
>
> Thanks for your comments about my part of the text.
>
> Andrew
>
> 2009/3/12 Barry Alpert <[log in to unmask]>
>
> Andrew,
>>
>> Not sure exactly what format aspects lost on this end.
>>
>> I was very much taken by your quote from Bakhtin, but wondered where it
>> might be
>> found and how he elaborates on it. The twenties Parisian surrealists'
>> practice of walking
>> into cinemas, staying for a while, and then returning to a flaneur's day
>> came to mind,
>> though I doubt that's exactly what Bakhtin was referencing.
>>
>> Your poetic extrapolation quite delicate. I enjoyed reading it.
>>
>> Barry
>>
>>
>> On Thu, 12 Mar 2009 15:16:47 +0900, andrew burke <[log in to unmask]>
>> wrote:
>>
>> >*(This will lose format for those with 'plain text'. Sorry, can't help
>> it.)
>> >*
>> >
>> >I wake to
>> >
>> >one lyrical song,
>> >
>> >the other a single bell
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >frogs on late night shift
>> >
>> >sleep now
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >gecko holds fast on
>> >
>> >the window’s flywire
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >cotton sheets fall over
>> >
>> >my wife’s reclining figure
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >one breast escapes
>> >
>> >and a nipple
>> >
>> >tests the morning air
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >by the bed I stand
>> >
>> >cock at half mast
>> >
>> >head in the interactive syntax of dreams
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >~
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >on my upper arm,
>> >
>> >a live branch in the tropical air,
>> >
>> >a praying mantis
>> >
>> >jumps, tree-leaf green
>> >
>> >with fine limbs, two red
>> >
>> >pinhead eyes on his chiseled
>> >
>> >face, balanced above
>> >
>> >praying hands on delicate arms,
>> >
>> >enquiring now of the air,
>> >
>> >of my body, of my pores
>> >
>> >and sweat.
>> >
>> > I stand
>> >
>> >to escort him outdoors,
>> >
>> >talking to him all the while,
>> >
>> >watching his arms and head rise up further
>> >
>> >as sound waves break over him, tongue
>> >
>> >of this strange tree
>> >
>> >talking
>> >
>> >lovingly to him.
>> >
>> >
>> >--
>> >Andrew
>> >http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
>>
>>
>
>
> --
> Andrew
> http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
>
--
Andrew
http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
|