Kirsten Fenton ~ Appalachian Roots

Kirsten Fenton ~ Appalachian Roots

Weary flesh. And I’ve read all the books.
Adieu. Go down below. I feel like birds are drunk
On hanging around the unicorn’s froth and sky.
Nothing, not old gardens in the eyebanks,
Will box up, tidy, a heart sloshed at sea.
O nights! Nor the lamp’s Sahara
On empty paper,
And not the sixteen-year-old nursing.
Screw this. Steamship tipping your mast,
Lift anchor for nature’s exotics!
I’ll slough off Ennui by being cruel
And I’ll believe again in the supreme farewell of
handkerchiefs!
Maybe the masts, which want storms,
Storms where the wind bends its knee over shipwrecks
Lost, mastless, mastless, nor fertile isles…
Dear heart! Hear the song of these watchers of the sea

Sea Breeze  by Stéphane Mallarmé

Happy Sunday.


Spectre by Radiohead (yes, written, but not used, for the James Bond movie)

I’m lost, I’m a ghost
Dispossessed, taken host
My hunger burns a bullet hole
A spectre of my mortal soul
These rumours and suspicion
Anger is a poison
The only truth that I could see
Is when you put your lips to me
Futures tricked by the past
Spectre, how he laughs

Fear puts a spell on us
Always second-guessing love
My hunger burns a bullet hole
A spectre of my mortal soul
The only truth that I can see
Spectre has come for me