From Book 1: The Skeleton

            The sun rose, filling the house with light and chasing away the blurry jumble of last night. Whatever I had done in the dark I felt alert now and in good spirits. As soon as everyone dressed and swallowed some coffee we went for a walk on the road. It skirted the forest, whichContinue reading “From Book 1: The Skeleton”

From Book 1: Language

Suddenly his lids closed and his head fell peacefully against the chair and remained there. His breathing stretched, settling into a steady rhythm. I waited but he didn’t speak again. Like a sage he sat there, hands folded, lips pushed aside a bit from the pressure of the cushion on his cheek, his legs stillContinue reading “From Book 1: Language”

From Book 1: Sleepwalking

Previous scene here.             “Sh, Roger, don’t tease,” Justine told him. Then, suddenly startled, she looked past him. I sensed a new presence in the room and turned to see Franz standing over us in his robe, swaying a little and gawking at us open-mouthed. Catherine appeared in the doorway with a bundle of blanketsContinue reading “From Book 1: Sleepwalking”

From Book 1: Correspondence with Jacque Riviere

An idea occurred to me that I long resisted but find very attractive… Why don’t we publish, instead of your poems, our correspondence? I have reread it, and your January 29 letter is particularly remarkable. Perhaps we should include a bit of your poetry, or your essay on Uccello? The effect would be a sortContinue reading “From Book 1: Correspondence with Jacque Riviere”

From Book 1: Rue Blomet

            There were voices outside and someone pounded on the door. Desnos answered it and let in a group of five or so. Before any introductions could begin more people walked up, so he left the door open to the warm night air. Some of the people I recognized from earlier this evening, but mostContinue reading “From Book 1: Rue Blomet”

From Book 1: Hurl his Soul

            Finally Genica and Artaud emerged, carelessly dressed and uncombed and dragging their bags, though I noticed Artaud had taken the time to shave. He was always impeccably clean-shaven, every day, even when he wandered homeless around Paris. He trudged up to Desnos. “Can we go,” he snapped, “so I can have the pleasure ofContinue reading “From Book 1: Hurl his Soul”

From Book 1: Drowning a Mouse

            Justine laid Artaud’s head in her lap and as his arms slipped around her, her fingers stole into his long hair, stroking it longingly. “Tell me that you won’t cut it,” she pleaded.             “I must,” he groaned. “I am going back to my parents’ house this week for the summer, and it’s badContinue reading “From Book 1: Drowning a Mouse”

From Book 1: Poems into Plowshares

            Finally he finished, rolled up his rug and stood up, his face collapsing into brown wrinkles as he smiled. He nodded to me, and reached out to playfully slap Artaud’s cheek, again startling the young man. “Peace be with you both!” the Muslim cried, and slipped into the crowd. Artaud’s hand flew to hisContinue reading “From Book 1: Poems into Plowshares”

From Book 1: Skip Blithely

As soon as everyone had dressed and swallowed some coffee we went for a walk along the road. It skirted the forest, which was cool and dark with a thick undergrowth and massive trunks, and eventually it wound around among rolling hills, where we looked out at seemingly endless fields of sunflowers. There were noContinue reading “From Book 1: Skip Blithely”

From Book 1: Holiday with Artaud and Desnos

            During breakfast the clouds gathered together and pelted the house with darkness and drops, a steady rain I could tell would not clear up soon. We dodged raindrops out to the woodpile, stacked up wood beside the hearth in the front room, built a fire in the fireplace and lit the lamps, and resignedContinue reading “From Book 1: Holiday with Artaud and Desnos”