In room 61
(which has no ceiling)
only the moon rages,
yet skin falls and flesh burns
and bones become mercury
and screams become silvery
rings of bells, pleasant to the ears
of distant passers-by.
Archive for April, 2011
In room 61
You’ll first enter a vestibulum
where you’ll be given clean linen clothes
an animal mask and a fur cloak
before being admitted in room 60, a perystile,
from every side of which they will scream
at you and throw you fruits or objects,
and one’ll advance in an agony
of giggles, and kick your ass hard while the singers begin
Hoson zes, phainou,
meden holos su lupou;
pros oligon esti to zen,
to telos ho chronos apaitei…
In certain late spring evenings
over the blacken’d, leady earth
floor of room 59
shadows of ancient soldiers
are seen drinking ale & mead
while ancient dogs parade.
A man with a bushel on his head walks in circles, around a heap of broken icons, on room 58’s caltrop-covered floor.
– Bring him in room 57.
In room 56 insects or things dwell,
more things than insects, that quickly,
when the door creaks open, in a thousand nooks seek shelter
behind candelabra and bronze idols
in the jars full of hystrix spikes
in every dusty hydria and crack and skull’s hollow eye.
The irregular shape of room 55, with a number of concavities and convexities, may look strange to the delver who doesn’t realize he is inside the head of a statue, whose eyes are nothing but the oval windows from where he will see dark columns of smoke raising from a distance and fire eating whole quarters in flashes of brimstone and ships sinking one after the other and all those oh so tiny drowning men.