Wednesday, August 25, 2010

prose || Richard Kostelanetz


It was on my birthday that I returned to my house. My birthday falls on the fifteenth of April. The fifteenth time I tried my borrowed key it worked. The key to understanding prose such as this is disassociation. This is prose rather than poetry because the sentences suggest a narrative. Narrative differs from poetry in suggesting movement from one place to another. Writing such as mine depends upon propulsive movement even if it doesn't evoke a superficial sense of going anywhere. Without this sense of propulsion there is no art. What more can I say?

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