Salmonlilies

Moments of poetry. Fragments of philosophy.

  • The figure a poet is. Is a lover

    When I realize that common discourse takes possession of my other and restores that other to me in the bloodless form of a universal substitute, applied to all the things which are not here, it is as if I saw my other dead, reduced, shelved in an urn upon the wall of the great mausoleum…

  • menulis seperti melukis

    Puisi

  • Why this world can’t be just bits and digits

    Everyday is honey be that of lemon or dew. Everyday is juice of creation and love. I want to mix fluids with you. —————— Aku, cinta banget puisi that I want to crush it in my palm crush it a brown stiff autumn leaf crush it a moth to fragments fine as fish food I…

  • random thought #1

    二法相因生中道义 In thinking and mediating the two ways, 道义would emerge A rose is a rose is a rose It is a rose. Surely a rose is a rose. Now what about a rose is a rose, is a rose? It is nonsensical other. The affect is a little like reading: I come by the mountain…

  • The poem falls…coming of (or from) the other. It lets itself be done, without activity, without work, in the most sober pathos, a stranger to all production, especially to creation. Che cos’è la poesia? (Derrida)

  • aku,

    menyusup ragaku dalam sinarSamudra,ringan sosok jiwa sekepingKupu-kupu,mencuri dalam sekelibatNyaliku,mengalir usap-usap membentukWahai suara,ayahku memanggil起 27.12.2023verse from 13.12.2005

  • Picture words

    [月] Reclining chair buoyant to cricket sounds [远] Fingering waves, crests rising and falling – stretching [labuh] 摇摇活

  • This poem is my ancestor

    Keluasan lautMenyesak dadaNapas terpautPada rasa seluas maut”Cinta”, Sitor Situmorang

  • random poem #2

    锦瑟无端五十弦，一弦一柱思华年。庄生晓梦迷蝴蝶，望帝春心托杜鹃。沧海月明珠有泪，蓝田日暖玉生烟，此情可待成追忆，只是当时已惘然。李商隐  the stringed zitherthe floating worldzhuangzi dreams of butterfliesthe changing tides and heartsthe moon is giant pearl over the oceantears, mists arising from the jade provinceshe, affected and bewildered,inscribes this moment to eternity.

  • All coincidental pieces fall and fit to a pattern

    at a lecture by Robin Grove, who on that occasion, recited Beowulf by Seamus Heaney, I couldn’t catch any of the words being a foreign student of English intimidated by any poetry, I just sat there listening, surrendering to the sounds It was years later when I had to teach poetry that I started to…