Cleaving pessoa / saramago

Against Boredom

“I don’t think, therefore I don’t exist.
I’ve forgotten who I am. I’m unable
to write because I’m unable to be.
Through an oblique slumber, I’ve
been somebody else. To realize I
don’t Remember myself means
that I’ve woken up.”
—Fernando Pessoa,
The Book of Disquiet

When I’m dreaming—I’m forgetting myself
Returning to myself—forgetting things like
Where I’ve been—what I was doing and
What it’s like—to play “Interrupted Death”
I’m lost in it—this mysterious performance
Lucid as José Saramago—my new Other

Pessoa performativity—what a field day!!!
Pessoa’s heteronyms—what a playground!!!
My idea of writing—isn’t psychoanalytic…
Critics like Roditi, Hamburger—and Paz
They see Pessoa’s work—as schizophrenic
Uniquely articulated art—how boring!!!

Queer theory—especially interrogations
Transgressing my way—into performativity
Discovering Pessoa’s—unprecedented boredom
With the usual hacks—the Freudian has-beens
Interpreting heteronyms—as failed identity
Rather than—ventriloquistic “poetic drag”

Performing it new—here in the Blogosphere
Deconstructing it—straight male unitary self
Tacky presumptuous—domineering dildo-ego
Patriarchal poetry—that Gertrude Stein
Objected to—with Tender Buttons and
Lifting Belly—with Miss Furr & Miss Skeene

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