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is a photo of my father reading an excerpt from (his friend) Michel Foucault's book about Sexuality. Professor Deleuze (my father) is
leaning a little on the coffin of Foucault
as the coffin is readied to go
& interred _inTo earth Put in the ground
grounded, buried . Bodies bodes
last rites funerallights
rites of passage
age pass ritual reading
eulogy .
Debussy says don't listen to the advice of others neither to
the wind passing tellin us stories about the world
about the world
the world
the bodes
its bodies
buried
across clasp grapes of bodies
by her breast
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Nota: 'my father' philosophically. In Deleuzoguattarian terms this might be read as a contradiction in terms, but in this case, it functions as a fictional episteme. their names as have the names of so many others 've becomea the conduit for a line of escape that includes the fatherly brotherly the filiative alliance of movement ~Cheers, Reader.
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