"this ghastly skeleton, bone-bare, on ghostly nag,
gallops through space. no spurs, no whips...
and yet his steed pants toward Apocalypse,
nostrils a-snort in epileptic fit.
headlong they rush, athwart the infinite,
with rash and trampling hoof. the cavalier,
his flashing sword aflame, slashes - now here,
now there - amongst the nameless slaughtered horde;
then goes inspecting, like some manor-lord,
the charnel-ground, chill and unbounded, where,
under a bleak sun's pallid, leaden glare,
history's great sepulchered masses lie,
from ages near and ages long gone by."
Tonight will be the first night working on material in the new studio over in downtown. New resonance for old tones.
No comments:
Post a Comment