No hand to scribe the sinking sickness I have seen

[sovay]

My poem "Plague-Bearer" is now online at Lone Star Stories. Its inspirations were more than one nightmare I had in September and a film I have never seen; it is not dedicated to anyone, which may be just as well.

Ironically, I still have the Cold of the Damned. At least it doesn't involve hemorrhaging. I'm going to bed.

Comments

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

That is one of my favorite poems of yours. Just amazing. I think the first time I read it, it made me re-remember how amazing poetry can be.

Lines that infect me:

A dry fever is curing him
to a dark poppy-head, his ribs rattling
with shot seed;

The sun grinds
on the eyes like salt. [never has been a better way to describe this sensation...]

The last form
we take is the weeping eye, scoured raw
with looking out [this deserves an essay of its own]

but the clots and seeps of this notation
would break my throat into blood to read
aloud [this is what speaking the Dark Tongue should do!]

the sunset shallows beyond
the panes.

Oh, the sparrow-bones! The lost and broken keys.

just wonderful.

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

Oh, and that issue has the excellent Penelope poem by Jen! I love that one, too.

[ap-aelfwine.livejournal.com]

Lovely. What film that you've never seen was the inspiration? Or should I ask?

Sorry that you've still got the dreadful cold. I hope you're feeling better soon.

Oh, and I should mention that you're very slightly responsible for inspiring my un-Rabbithole Day post. I hope you don't mind that.