19 June
The old lady asked me about my crows after my reading: do they have any political meaning? I say no.
I mean yes.
How can I practise my politics if I don’t say no to her? Like a crow: how can it sing without breaking the silence?
I open the window of hotel room for . . . anything . . . something out of my knowledge. Can’t be expected. Ordinary as usual. Gone with perception. No value.
There is a black crow sitting on a roof. A heavy spot. A substantiality I can touch by staring at it. I have been touched by its shining black and breathless heaviness many times. I know it acknowldeges my touching by being still.
My teacher: it only sing when it can breaks silence. This is the art of timing. But also axe through air: the art of sounding space.
Crows don’t move at all when they aren’t moving. And I wrote: crows have no eyes.
Something many people don’t know: the crow is the sun itself. It has three legs. It is one of our gods from not that long ago.
But in my memories they were just a group of black birds flying above, singing to make everything quiet. Sometimes I heard their wings moving. That means it was really quiet: nothing happening around and me doing nothing as well: still life.
This is better than god.
When I was a little kid I knew only three kind of birds: crow, eagle and sparrow. And I was always sitting behind the window, staring and waiting for something.
Sometimes an eagle passed high above. I looked at it as today I look at a plane. It makes the whole world slow down.
Peace for the world: we need an eagle flying above.
Politics for the Netherlands: I heard there are no more Smart shops. And soon the coffee shops will say no to foreigners.
On the first evening of the festival a poet raised his hand on stage: Free Tibet!
Free the crow!
Or, how about this? Smart people, break the system!
Does that sound sharp enough? Shall we put it on a flag? A tattoo?
I don’t really need a Smart shop. It’s better to keep it far away from tourists. Sometimes headless people also make the right decisions. Just as idiots also need human rights.
© Yan Jun
The Ukrainian poet [Serhiy Zhadan] read a poem about mushrooms. I know it’s not about mushrooms. Nor about politics. The one from Kazakhstan [Bakhyt Kenzjejev] said he hates China as he hates Russia. I know it’s not about poetry, Chinese or Russian.
The Austrian one who lives in Berlin [Ann Cotten] told the audience that she and her friends became communists. This reminded me of Godard’s Film Socialism. He said: this is nothing to do with socialism.
Sixteen years ago a friend and I ran a music store called Crow. Something funny: the logo designer forgot to draw enough legs for it. It’s a one-legged crow!
