Sunday, March 14, 2010

Pedro Costa's Ne Change Rien



french prose, packed as solid as the bricks of which it was said that augustus left them marble, greek of the sixteenth century, all curlicues and crosses and dots, the commentary as deep as mud, greek of the seventeenth century, still ligatured but running like a ribbon of lace that is crocheted with the delicacy of the particles, the inspissated hem of commentary a little interpenetrated with light,
greek and latin on opposite pages
of a villoisin daphnis and chloe, the greek
now in lovely little scrolls, the latin vowels flying
accents, the old text of learning touched now with the charm
of the flowery meads it revives; greek of modern english editions, restored
to its original severity, gracious and spare and clear,
and printed on india paper, russian with
its greek of the barbarian
reaches,
with the rectangles of plain pale type all wall-eyed on the facing french prose, packed as solid as the bricks of which it was said that augustus left them marble, greek of the sixteenth century, all curlicues and crosses and dots, the commentary as deep as mud, greek of the seventeenth century...