Poetry is anarchic to the degree that it brings into play all the relationships of object to object and of form to signification. It is anarchic also to the degree that its occurrence is the consequence of a disorder that draws us closer to chaos.
Amidst the rumblings of political unrest in Thailand, I meet up and chat with my old friend — Dustin — about the possibility of opening possibilities with poetry. Not just in the sense of new ways of seeing or new images (even as they remain potentialities); certainly not in the sense of what is to be done, for if didactic, potentiality itself is quashed; but about the sound of poetry, and how sound opens the possibility of poetry itself.
For, it is sound — klang, glas — that shakes us, perhaps even shatters us, as it escapes meaning, logic, the constrictions of logos: and it is this “disorder” that opens the possibility of anarchy, of freedom, itself.