Every so often under the auspices of the Kreation God(s), we are blessed with the presence of a truly exemplary kreationist. We are speaking this week of Krebvn Gyergözt, a man from another place. He recently arrived in this country from some former soviet bloc state--we're not sure which one or if it even still exists. He claims to subscribe to the 1880s French Aesthetic School of Kreative thought, whose motto was "kréation pour l'kréation"--or at least we think that's what he said. But whatever strain he hails from, what's clear is that Mr. Gyergözt bleeds the kolors of kreation. We present to you today a poem he wrote in ginger ale on a cocktail napkin during the long plane ride to the States. Ruminate:
Man of village make
dog bite face of child
I wear hat of father and
talk to old woman
at market who make soup
to feed beast of forest
Sharp teeth make injury
mind of adolescent
Blood in borscht
make pestilence
of stomach
Saturday, January 30, 2010
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