she stood there a loaded gun
she stood there a loaded gun
she stood there a loaded gun
PETER TRUSCHNER PHOTOGRAPHY EMILY DICKINSON POETRY ANNA PETZER PERFORMANCE
Alone, I cannot be
Alone – if Angels are “alone” I shall not fear mistake I shall not cheated wake some grinning morn
To find the Sunrise left I dwell in Possibility
A fairer House than Prose I tie my Hat
I crease my Shawl I take a flower – as I go I cross the Hall with mingled steps
I – silent – pass the door I look on all this world contains My chancel – all the plain today
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I hav‘nt told my garden yet Lest that should conquer me. I hav‘nt quite the strength now To break it to the Bee I will not name it in the street For shops would stare at me That one so shy – so ignorant should have the face to die The worm doth woo the mortal, death claims a living bride I see thee better – in the Dark I do not need a Light If I should die And you should live It's sweet to know that stocks will stand when we with Daisies lie
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I felt my life
with both my hands I turned my Being round and round
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I think just how my shape will rise Till Hair – and Eyes – and timid Head Are out of sight I‘m “wife” – I‘ve finished that That other state I‘m Czar – I‘m “woman” now It‘s safer so How odd the Girl‘s life looks behind this oft eclipse The Day that I was crowned Was like the other days Until the Coronation came I rose, and all was plain
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Invincible
My Fortress I do not doubt
The Self I was
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My Life had stood – a Loaded Gun In Corners What shall I do – it whimpers so This little Hound within the Heart All day and night – with bark and start And yet – it will not go As if my life was shaven And fitted to the frame And could not breathe without a key That in my awkward-gazing face The Angels – softly peered And touched me with their fleeces Almost if they cared And then a Plank in Reason broke And I dropped down and down And hit a World at every plunge And finished knowing – then Had I a mighty gun I think I‘d shoot the human race
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I took one Draught I’ll tell you what Precisely The they said
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of Life I paid an existence market price
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I hide myself
within my flower
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The river reaches to my mouth My heart be dry and shatter me with dawn
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The soul has moments of escape When bursting all the doors She dances like a Bomb, abroad And swings upon the Hours 56
There is a pain – so utter It swallows Being up The covers the Abyss with Trance So memory can step Around – across – upon it
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I reason, Earth is short And Anguish – absolute To put this World down, like a Bundle And walk steady away Requires Energy – possibly Agony But, what of that?
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To learn the Transport by the Pain As Blind Men learn the sun. To stay with homesick feet Upon a foreign shore Haunted by native lands, the white And blue – beloved Air!
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A drowsiness – diffuses A Dimness like a Fog Envelopes Consciousness The Flesh – Surrendered – Cancelled The Bodiless begun 60
Dare you see a Soul at "White Heat"?
Blazing in Gold and quenching in Purple Leaping like Leopards to the Sky
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There is a certain Slant of Light Shadows hold their Breath
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In the name of the Bee and of the Butterfly And of the Breeze
each little discord here removed When I count the seeds That are sown beneath To bloom so, bye and bye
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In a serener Bright In a more golden light I see each little doubt and fear
When I believe in the garden Mortal shall not see
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I started Early – took my dog And visited the Sea The Mermaids in the Basement Came out to look at me The Tide went past my simple Shoe And past my Apron – and my Belt And past my Boddice – too And made as it would eat me up When they dislocate my brain! Amputate my freckled Bosom! Make me bearded like a man! Blush, my spirit in thy Fastness Blush, my unacknowledged clay I walked – as wings – my body bore The feet – I former used Unnecessary now to me As boots – would be to birds I never felt at Home – below And in the Handsome skies I shall not feel at Home – I know I don‘t like Paradise
Nature and God – I neither knew Yet Both so well knew me
The Memory of my Ashes Will consolation be
She dropped as softly as a star from out my summer's eve
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IMPRINT PETER TRUSCHNER
she stood there a loaded gun Performance: Anna Petzer Design: Ana Druga Text: Emily Dickinson Text editing: Peter Truschner
ABOUT THE TEXT The text of this book is an unique stream built out of disjunctive text lines extracted by Peter Truschner from the collected poems of Emily Dickinson. THANKS TO Luise Truschner, Hermann Beil, Mario Jandrokovic, Brigitta Lienbacher, Stefan Gmünder, Petra und Christian von Hoffen, Stephan Kruhl, Suzy Royal, Carlos Iglesias, Hannes Wanderer, Reinhard Kressner BIO Peter Truschner, born 1967, is an Austrian photographer and writer who has been living in Berlin since 1999. He received several awards and scholarships. His novel Die Träumer (The Dreamers) was nominated for National Book Award “Deutscher Buchpreis” in 2007. His plays have been performed in major theatres in Germany. Since 2010 he has been working as a freelance lecturer at universities, e. g. Universität der Künste Berlin. His first photo book Bangkok Struggle was published by Peperoni Books in 2015 and reached top 5 at “Photo Eye” in Santa Fé/New Mexico. In 2016 he had his first solo exhibition in the Museum of Modern Art, Klagenfurt/Austria.