..the lovers..by john connolly..out this june..

The lovers                                   

tesla

david bowie is tesla

...

i believe right now if i could

i would swallow you whole

i would leave only bones and teeth

we could see what was underneath

and you would be free then

breathing

we´ve lost our chance, we´re the first and last,

after the blast,

chips of plutonium are twinkling in every lung.

i love my beloved,

all and everywhere,

only the fools blew it,

you and me knew life itself is breathing.

fuck with fire

and we´ve slept where before 

we wouldn´t stand,

and we can´t hide our hands

because we´ve all smeared guilt 

across our faces

and we´ve lost beauty

and died in all those places.

"fuck with fire" by planes mistaken for stars

ascenseur pour l`échafaud

fahrstuhl zum schafott

.. .. ..

Pain in my breast, suddenly. Ah! it pains. Perhaps I am the one who is dying of his heart. That would be a laugh, for me to die and leave them there, trapped, the tide halted, the boat stuck fast forever. End it all, space and time, one huge flash and then darkness and a blessed silence as the babble stops. Serve them right. serve us all right. We are the dangerous ones, no other species like us, all of creation cowering before us, the death-dealers. I see a forked beast squatting on the midden of the world, red-eyed, regardant, gnawing on a shinbone: poor, dumb destroyer. Better without us, better the nothing than this, this shambles we have raised. Yes, have done with it all: one
universal neck and I the hangman. In the end. Not yet. In the end.



from Ghosts, by John Banville

......

There are times when my mind goes dead, as if something had switched itself off in my head.
Some mornings when I wake I do not remember who I am or what it is I have done.
I will lie there for am minute or more, unwilling to stir, basking in the anaesthetic of forgetfulness.
It is like being new-born. At such moments I glimpse a different self, as yet unblackened, ripe with potential, a sort of radiant big infant swaddled in shining light. Then it all comes seeping back,
spreading like a slow, thick liquid through my mind.
Yet sometimes even when I am fully awake, in the middle of of the day, I will imagine for a second, as if I were walking in a dark place and suddenly stepped through a patch of sunlight, that none of it had happened, that I am what I might have been, an innocent man, nor, for that matter, have I ever been what could properly be called a man. Still the dream persists, suppressed but aleways there, that somehowby some miraculous effort of the heart what was done could be undone.



from "Ghosts" by John Banville

LETTER IN NOVEMBER

I am flushed and warm.
I think I may be enormous,
I am so stupidly happy,
My Wellingtons
Squelching and squelching through the beautiful red.





from "LETTER IN NOVEMBER" by Sylvia Plath

.. ...

Through the darkness of future past,
the magician longs to see
One chants out between two worlds:
Fire, walk with me

..Dreams..

Dreams, then waking. At times it was hard to tell the difference; I would drift out of riotous slumber and get up and walk around in a hazy, shallow state of that seemed only a calmer, less tormented form of sleep than that which had gone before. I tramped the roads in the chill of dawn while a white sun came up tremblingly out of the sea. Everything is strange at that hour, stranger than usual, I mean: the world looks as I imagine it will look after I am dead, wide and empty and streaked with long shadows, shocked somehow and not quite solid, all odd-angled light andf shifting facades .



from Ghosts, by John Banville

MISERY

MISERY

That´s right. It´s coming, someday. No matter how hard you try you won´t be able avoid it.
Married? Found that "special someone"? Sickness, death are on their way. Or maybe you´ve chosen the ascetic contemplative life. Well, just wait until the body starts to fail and repressed regrets begin to well up and swell into a sob and there is no one there to hear them. All the evidence points to it . Better get to work now.




from Chris Ware, by Daniel Raeburn

False Advertisements
The Acme Novelty Library Number 4
Fantagraphics Books, Seattle 1994

BERCK-PLAGE

Why is it so quiet, what are they hiding?
I have two legs, and I move smilingly.


s.plath