GEORGES BATAILLENight Is My Nudity
Night is my nudity
the stars my teeth
I hurl myself among the dead
dressed in white sun
Death dwells within my heart
like a little widow
she weeps, the coward,
I’m afraid I might vomit
the widow’s laughter soars to the sky
and rips the birds asunder
I imagine
in the infinite depths
the deserted expanses
di√erent from the sky that I see
no longer containing those wavering points of light
but torrents of flames
higher than heaven
more blinding than dawn
shapeless abstraction
striped with splits
accumulation
of forgotten inanities
on one side the subject I
on the other the object
the universe
rags of dead notions
where I hurl the detritus, weeping,
the powerlessness
the hiccoughs
the discordant crowing of the cock of ideas
o void fabricated
in the factory of infinite vanity
like a chest of false teeth
I leaning over the chest
I have
my desire to vomit my ire
o my ruin
ecstasy sleeping me