To devastate conventional, standard canonical, representation. Because the poem is the moment of a listening. And the sign is only given to sight. It is deaf and it deafens. Only the poem can voice us, move us from voice to voice, make a listening of us, give us all language as listening. And the continuity of this listening includes, imposes a continuity among the subjects that we are, the language that we’re becoming and the active ethic that is this listening, from which a politics comes. A politics of thinking. The Rhythm Party.
The function, the very serious function, of racism is distraction. It keeps you from doing your work. It keeps you explaining, over and over again, your reason for being. Somebody says you have no language, so you spend twenty years proving that you do. Somebody says your head isn’t shaped properly, so you have scientists working on the fact that it is. Somebody says you have no art, so you dredge that up. Somebody says you have no kingdoms, so you dredge that up. None of that is necessary. There will always be one more thing.
poem: “The Murder of Two Men by a Young Kid Wearing Lemon-colored Gloves” by Kenneth Patchen