......

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

..some are born..

Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born
Every Morn & ervery Night
Some are Born to sweet delight.
Some are Born to sweet delight.
Some are Born to Endless Night.



From " Auguries Of Innocence" by William Blake