Windows, being pregnant at dawn,quiet surrender of the soul of birdssepulchre insinuation, lapsing as sunperforce arrives to dust the air, colourthe happyblind force, thick figures ofconsciousness at none debarred in thisapprehension of time. Joe's in the river in a yellowwhite slantof sun and gulps of spat salt; loamingin the interior where gayly churchbells halea seven … [Read more...] about Gilmour, By: Niall Quinn
Tutankhamen At Stool, By: Niall Quinn
Moon’s fixtures are another chamber,Breeding stasis in sand, gold artefactsOnto a throne obsidian eye embalmed –Mortality a weapon and a steer. Likely one is shattered in glory, though thenAs now, no one is amazed by these tremulousBlunders, sacred as cows though they may be –Slaughter is standard and god has yet to exist. Time’s future is immemorially storedAs beast’s … [Read more...] about Tutankhamen At Stool, By: Niall Quinn