By J. H. Prynne.
[...] oh why as the
hours pass and are drawn off, do the
shoulders break, down to their possessions,
when at moments and for days the city
is achieved as a glance -- inwards, across,
the Interior Mountain with its cliffs
pale under frost [...]
Our Death 33 / On the Hatred of the Sun - Every evening its like the sun smashes into the earth. Its been doing it now for a few weeks. The sky splits into two and all the details of our lives - ...
4 hours ago