I wondered where you'd been, Dom. This is wonderfully out of fashion, rather
like a 'tis the excellent foppery of this world' speech re-written for a new
Edgar in a play by Geoffrey Hill's younger brother. I'm serious abolut the
play comparison, I respond to this is as if a speech in an almost
unstageable linguistically ornate verse play. A very dark play, maybe
Jonsonian in mood, rather Shakespearian.
Which is of course probably a complete misreading but at least it's my
misreading!
On 8 April 2010 21:00, Dominic Fox <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> UNDERSTAND LESS almost a Dadaist
> slogan, anarchist oppugnancy
> voicing the truth of power. Some are left
> as ghosts in their own lives, materialising
> under assumed names, ventriloquised by grief.
> Destruction is safer to contemplate than healing,
> I find, although my appetites are strange
> even to me: I cling to gallows-humour
> as others cleave to the cross. Cast CRUCIATUS
> and see vengeance realised, bowels frothing
> with boiling lead. You understand / condemn
> and either way are caught in an imposture,
> scrying closed-circuit footage, hearsay's undead
> certainties; the imagined reek of blood.
>
--
David Bircumshaw
"A window./Big enough to hold screams/
You say are poems" - DMeltzer
Website and A Chide's Alphabet
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