All poetry is fragment: it is shaped by its breakages, at every turn. It is the very art of turnings, toward the white frame of the page, toward the unsung, toward the vacancy made visible, that wordlessness in which our words are couched.
One of the things which really fascinate me about erasure poetry is its visual qualities, it is as if it places itself somewhere in between art and literature. Just have a look at this:
& then this
Robert Rauschenberg: Erased de Kooning Drawing, 1953. Drawing, traces of ink and crayon on paper, mat, label, and gilded frame. The work is presented by the artist here:
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