Answering Kleist – Michael Spyra
Kleist’s Achilles Das Klopfen stiller Tränen auf’s Papier war, was den Meister aus dem Schlummer zog. “Ein Sturm, vielleicht? Das Dach nicht dicht? Ach was! dann hätten doch die Fenster auch gescheppert. Schon wieder also irgendwas verschüttet, das durch die Balkenbohlendecke sickert, um mir das Manuskript zu ruinieren.” So geht’s ihm durch den Kopf, schon ist er auf, zu seinem Schreibtisch, stockt, reibt sich die Augen. Da sitzt Achilles selbst, der Herr der Klingen, auch Meister aller Zungen, wie es scheint, und Lazarus der Myrmidonen, liest die jüngsten Verse Kleist’s, Penthesilea, hochkonzentriert, dass er das blasse Nachthemd und nicht das Wasser an den Linsen merkt. “Ist also von den Toten auferstanden” schießt es dem Herrn der Federn in den Sinn: “und hier und heute Nacht mein erster Leser!” Doch näher wagt er sich nicht an den Geist, verharrt, wie angewurzelt auf der Schwelle, bis sein Besuch im Morgenlicht verschwindet, bevor er eilig jede Seiten prüft, um mit der Tinte schleunigst nachzubessern.
Kleist’s letter answered
Dear Henry. Or is it ‘Dearest’? I hardly knew ye. To whom it may concern. I remember eighteen-o-five as a time. As a matter of fact. As you were. The average year would be 1910, I guess, just between you and me. Would this be a Germany both of us could be comfortable with, at least a little, the best of both worlds for a meet and greet? When the bus came and stopped at the bus stop, when the doors opened I entered, then showed the driver what must be shown. Always. And I thought of you, ‘thought’ in the broadest sense of that term. I wanted to write something. I saw streets like you wouldn’t believe, through the windows in this little city named fittingly Berlin. Most if not all the trees you ever saw aren’t here anymore. Carriages are automobiles now and pigs can fly. Would you wonder out and about, wandering through the parks, with its nature unfolding, with that grin you could have been known for, if you were here with me? It was January, when you wrote Earnest. It must have been cold that winter. As every winter. I’m not a good conversationalist, but I’m quite the listener, drifting ever further away from you, into my own mind, never listening in this endless suburb, the bus halting neither here nor there. There is a Kleiststraße in the city I grew up, certainly, and I never thought about it. There was a girl I liked, perhaps loved, in my own silly way. She was a looker, but when I saw her I don’t think I was ever reminded of Europe, ready to get fucked by the metamorphosed Zeus, bull virility and all. Poor Earnest, being a canvas your feelings could sublime themselves on. No wonder he didn’t write back. But i jest. I did the same thing. It’s evening now. As it must be. Time to move on. I left the bus at the Kleistpark. Shadows grow here between the columns, there’s a rectangle of green, being green and nothing else. It’s not easy being green. A muppet once sang that. It could make you wonder why. But why wonder, why wonder. So there’s that. I hope you’re well when this letter reaches you.
You speak of my destiny like you own it
or have seen stones set,
like my path is yours to pervert.
You speak of my youth like it’s yours to gorge on,
like a sweetness that quenches only your thirst,
eases your pangs, without a delay of gratification.
Continue reading Answering Kleist: Rufus Mufasa
Hallo lieber Freund,
ich schreibe Dir bereits aus Warschau, wo ich gestern bereits angekommen bin, denn auch ein ostpreußischer Offizier muss wenigstens einmal die internationale Buchmesse besuchen, welche diesmal im verdachten Fußballstadion „Narodowy“, dem Nationalstatdion, stattfindet, stell Dir mal vor!
Continue reading Answering Kleist: Artur Becker (in German – Translation soon!)
‘Digital literature is not digitized literature’. So what is it then exactly? To find out, the CROWD Network gathered various experts and for the INTRE:FACE conference, held at the Lettrétage in Berlin from the 6th– 7th February. Among them you had poetic programmers, e-book publishers and conceptual artists, all of whom had one thing in common: their work was inextricable from the digital world. Yet the extent of this entanglement is still not easily qualified. Where and how does literature cross over the threshold of the analog into the digital with no prospect of return?
Presentations and discussions from the conference can be followed in depth in articles published on the CROWD blog.
Continue reading “We are the authors of machines” – on the INTRE:FACE CROWD-Conference, Berlin February 2016
SARDAM, deriving from the word σαρδάμ («verbal slip» in greek), is an annual, out of the box, literature festival, based in Cyprus that was founded in 2013 by the writer Maria A. Ioannou and the artistic group aRttitude. The festival presents the work of writers from Cyprus and abroad in alternative, mixed media ways.
In order to participate in the 2016 edition ….
Continue reading OPEN CALL for SARDAM 2016
It’s Frankfurt Book Fair again! We’ve compiled the most interesting international events out of innumerable readings and exhibitions of the world’s largest trade fair. As Indonesia is this year’s guest of honor, we’ve selected as well some exciting readings focusing on Indonesia’s literary scene: Continue reading 10 events worth visiting – Frankfurt Book Fair 2015
Earlier last month we have been reporting about Poetry Moon Festival 2015 in Finnland. But since a picture supposedly says more than thousand words: Here comes the photostory from the Festival. Continue reading Photostory: Poetry Moon Festival (Finland)
Long time no hear! Summarizing the discussions of the conference in Berlin we want to share with you the résumé of the efforts of January. Let’s CROWD across Europe with this neat little résumé in our pockets to present it to sponsors, to activists, to policians alike and let’s disseminate it in any digital way possible. In the Beginning of 2015 it was time to eat. Now it is time to spread the word. Here you go, ladies and gentlemen:
Résumé conference (download, PDF 537 kb)