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Thread: J. H. Prynne

  1. #1
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    Default J. H. Prynne

    One for luka to do something with tomorrow. He's telling me to buy his big, yellow book.

    MBPVjFH.jpg

  2. #2

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    Oh, no. I mean, oh yes!

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  4. #3
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    They've got it in the library. Expanded edition

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    Quote Originally Posted by craner View Post
    Oh, no. I mean, oh yes!
    I bought my first one in an Oxfam in Cardiff on a trip to visit Craner.

  6. #5
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    Funnily enough I've just woke up and there's a different one in bed with me.image.jpg

  7. #6
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    i don't know if it makes much sense visualizing a poem but i made this the other day:

    pryn.jpg

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  9. #7
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    Yyaldrin didn't allow himself to be intimidated by it. He just read it. That's the way to do it.

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    i do sometimes go and look for articles or papers on him but usually just open the book randomly. here's an article on prynne that i enjoyed reading: https://poetry.openlibhums.org/article/id/706/

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  12. #9
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    Die A Millionaire

    (pronounced: "diamonds in the air")

    The first essential is to take knowledge
    back to the springs, because despite
    everything and especially the recent
    events carried under that flag, there is
    specific power in the idea of it

    that
    what is known can be used to pick up
    or more usually to hold on and develop
    as what for the econometrist is
    "profitable speculation"-the intellect
    on the trigger once more, as those
    poor seventh century Irish monks (being
    sentimentalists) would have believed
    if they could.

    If there's any need
    for proof & it can be kept from
    running to violence (to which ex-
    tremity it should anyway perhaps
    be swooping homewards) the twist-point
    is "purchase"-what the mind
    bites on is yours

    the prime joy of
    control engineering is what they please
    to denote (through the quartzite window) "self-
    optimizing systems", which they like
    to consider as a plan for the basic
    living unit. And thus "accelerating the con-
    vergence of function", we come to our
    maximal stance.

    Imperialism was just
    an old, very old name for that
    idea, that what you want, you by
    historic process or just readiness
    to travel, also "need"-and
    need is of course the sacred daughter
    through which you improve, by
    becoming more extensive. Competitive
    expansion: if you can designate a
    prime direction as Drang nach Osten
    or the Western Frontier, that's to
    purify the idea by recourse to History

    before it happens. Envisaging the chapter-
    head in the historical outline as "the
    spirit (need) of the age"-its primary
    greed, shielded from ignominy by the
    like practice of too many others.

    That
    of course is not expansion but acquisition
    (as to purchase the Suez Canal was merely
    a blatant example): the true expansion
    is probably drift, as the Scythians
    being nomadic anyway for the most part
    slipped sideways right across the Russian
    steppes, from China by molecular friction
    through to the Polish border.

    Otherwise it's
    purchase, of a natural course, the alteration
    or storage of current like dams in the
    river: what starts as irrigation ends up
    selling the megawattage across the grid.

    The grid is another sign, is knowledge
    in applique-work actually strangled & latticed
    across the land; like the intangible consumer
    networks, as the market defines wants from
    single reckoning into a social need, graphed
    for instance as "contour tangent elimination".
    And the drift of that is again to divert the
    currency (as now in England

    to the north-
    east). As, it was actually losing its grip
    on the population: real people, slipping off
    the face of that lovely ground, leaving the
    green and pleasant lands of Northumberland
    to be near the belly & catch scraps
    with the shit that we set out so grudgingly
    on plates for the blind to eat in gratitude.

    The grip is purchase again, and the current
    chic of information theory will tell you how
    many bits of that commodity it takes to
    lift one foot/lb. of shit to a starving mouth,
    or not starving actually, but just rather
    unthinkingly hungry.

    And don't let some
    wise and quick-faced historical rat tell us about
    the industrial north and its misery, since every
    songbird since then (& with no honourable
    exception for D.H. Lawrence) has carolled about
    that beautiful black colour as if
    this were the great rot in the heart.

    It was not and is not. The twist-point
    of this is again power by the grid, putting
    lives into strings of consequence into
    molecular chains like the pit-ponies we love
    to cry over. Coal is so beautiful as I
    could weep over the carbon it shines with:
    what is scattered over these colliery towns
    is not soot or sulphur or coal or foaming
    detergent but the waste produced by
    mass conversion of want (sectional) into
    need (social & then total). All this by
    purchase on the twist-point, the system gone
    social to disguise

    the greed of ambition
    swimming in great seismic shocks through
    the beds of our condition. All the needles are
    twitching frantically across their smoky paper,
    but society is "predictably" as we know "in
    a state of ferment"-as if that could ever turn
    to wine or raise bread, from the sad shit it
    is, to that crispy crunchy loaf we shall all
    eat only in heaven.

    The fact is that right
    from the springs this water is no longer fit
    for the stones it washes: the water of life
    is all in bottles & ready for invoice. To draw
    from that well we must put on some
    other garment. Do what one can, that's
    the gas-and-water talk, which is "do
    what we can" and we are the social strand
    which is already past the twist point &
    into the furnace. We don't burn only
    because

    we are invisible to each other,
    our shoulders no longer so hopeless and
    beautiful as they meet at the spine rising
    up the dorsal rift: lovely and lonely, until
    the whole spread squints into the neck, and
    vanishes, into the head.

    And unlike Cerberus
    we all share the same head, our shoulders
    are denied by the nuptial joys of television,
    so that what I am is a special case of
    what we want, the twist-point missed exactly
    at the nation's scrawny neck.

    What runs
    back, or could be traced upstream by simply
    denying that conspiracy of "cause", is the
    question of names & the seven tribes,
    which are not "predictions" and socially can
    be grouped only by the thinnest of
    generalising systems. As these are not
    economically self-centering, they cannot be
    used as designations for targets (like
    the gun sight on what "we want").

    And the back mutation is knowledge and
    has always been so in the richest tradition
    of the trust it is possible to have, to repose
    in the mysteries. The perversions which
    thrust it forward, as a new feed into the
    same vicious grid of expanding prospects
    (profits) are let through by the weakness, now,
    of names.

    There is no other break in the
    descent, since without that it's all break
    anyway. The purity is a question of
    names. We are here to utter them. This is
    a prayer. I have it now between my
    teeth and my eyes, on my forehead. Know
    the names. It is as simple as the purity
    of sentiment: it is as simple
    as that.

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  14. #10
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    Zzzz
    Αι ψυχαί οσμώνται καθ΄ Άιδην.

  15. #11
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    Quote Originally Posted by Corpsey View Post
    Zzzz
    Oh no, don't tell me youre in this mood again!

  16. #12
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    Brian Sewell mode activated
    Αι ψυχαί οσμώνται καθ΄ Άιδην.

  17. #13
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    Nah tbh I just did it for a lark

    I was gonna delete the post cos I'm the new king of that but you got in too quick rats
    Αι ψυχαί οσμώνται καθ΄ Άιδην.

  18. #14
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    Prynne's something I'll have to work at, but there's enough there to make me want to work at it a little.

  19. #15
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