Sculpted stone to rend the meal It the mind to bake the wheel Culinary engines whirl and pur No captive to the hungry fur Thence to mine the tynes of night To cast the seeds up to the heights
By John Grey Damn. I’d have to really hate myself to believe she’s never coming back to me. Look in the mirror and throw up. Smash in my skull with a hammer. But I’m merely waiting here, as stoic as Zeno of Citium. So she left without a word. And I find nothing to console myself… Continue reading In My New England Home
By John Grey I use that horrible coward’s word “interesting” to describe your painting. Bad move. Now I have to find a way to fire myself as art critic, be hired on as lover. To be honest, the canvas looks like an unholy mess of blotches and streaks, scrawl and scribble. But that’s an… Continue reading Interesting
Slip the gates—the ragged swell Leapt winged proud beyond the spell Oft muttered in dark ages past Cloying rope to curb mind's grasp To hold the antler from the ground Lest it pin the bearer down Cloudy tumult—star's expanse No grounding unto which to lance Bearing up—the diadem high A calamitous crown of infinite sky.
His scalding words—accost the court In chitin—pitch'd—with dark cavorts Cocottes scattered—cloisters cracked Quenchless gyre—consumption wracked His tower high—over the dead Blossoming fog—past colors fled.
The wreckage of the god-ship lies On Bakhu's shores for clever eyes With reforged fragments of the arc The architects, athwart the dark The Great Cat dead—Set is slain The Serpent twines about The Skein Holo crumbles—the pillars crack Warship moves—His demense to sack The Eater of Souls can never die But shackled shall eternal… Continue reading Ἄποφις II
Watch the clash, the battle won If lost, will never rise the sun Moves the barge, across the land Mighty Set with spear in hand Guardian of the gilded lord Horizon coils with scales to ford Comes the Serpent, from The Nile Sixteen yards—sardonic wile Cut and torn and gealdor bound He writhes and heaves… Continue reading Ἄποφις