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How many sons must I swallow To reach absolute zero What I thought was a flame inside my heart Is only frostbite Disintegrating from within and holding the core of you in my mouth Cronos stone, and I may lay in torpor From this blood bitter pill Let me lie and don’t wake me As I let you lie for years Let the shroud cover us in this bed Cobweb smooth as velvet sheets And don’t make a sound, my darling. If no one stirs, we won’t wake hungry ghosts And nothing shall consume us |
I like this because the first two lines are sort of plain stated and not, they are kind of illuminant and I can see this dark landscape beyond which the orange orb of the sun is swallowed and it's sort of beautiful and (present) backed up a bit from the pain. All of those things Cronos stone and torpor deserve further investigation, and going back there's the eating of sons, so this is probably in and around the mythical, but for now, I just wanted to say these things - and that I enjoy the very precise syllabic quality of this and how each line turns a thought in to something else. It is not a simple hurt. That's what it makes me think. Things that will not calculate presume to be ongoing. That is is the toughest place. Best to you. | Posted on 2012-07-23 00:00:00 | by Daniel Barlow | [ Reply to This ] | |