Friday, 10 August 2012

The smell of "A Respectable Boarding House"

From Old Man Goriot:

"Our language has no name for the odour given off by this first room, which ought to be called 'essence of boarding house'. It smells of all that is stale, mildewy, rancid; it chills you, makes your nose run, clings to your clothes; it repeats like last night's dinner; it reeks of the scullery, the pantry, the poorhouse. If a method were invented for measuring the foul and fundamental particles contributed by the catarrhal conditions specific to each boarder, young and old, perhaps it really could be described"

Sunday, 18 September 2011

like pubic hair around a penis

A quick snippet from "I Hate Martin Amis et al", by Peter Barry:

"Today I'm shooting from the Jewish cemetery high up above Grbavica.  The irony doesn't escape me - I lie amongst the dead and attempt to add to their number.  They are my allies, my friends, we are on the same side.  The dead provide excellent cover: the grass clusters at the base of the white, smooth stones like pubic hair around a penis."

Thoroughly enjoying this so far.

Monday, 15 August 2011

The Lunar Menopause

the solar tides still weakly ebbed
on the day of the Lunar Menopause.
the Earth still turned and brighter shone the stars overhead.

she eschewed terrestrial orbit and
her subtle egress into milky pastures beyond
left synodic months measured now only for sentiment.

birds and bees among the first to
perish. A wave of melancholy with
no clear source as seasons shifted and mother nature wept.

her isotonic tears crashing and cursing,
the land of her children overcome as
freedom found and marriage annulled. Then the end.

Friday, 5 August 2011

My pillow has a heartbeat (*puke*)

My pillow has a heartbeat
And I love him very much.

My pillow has a heartbeat
And he trembles at my touch.

My pillow has a heartbeat
And it rises with his breath.

My pillow has a heartbeat
And I'll listen 'til our death.