'INTO THE FURROWS
of heavenacid in the doorcrack
you press the word
from which I rolled,
when I with trembling fists
the roof over us
dismantled, slate for slate,
syllable for syllable, for the copper-
glimmer of the begging-
cup's sake up
there.'

--Paul C*lan, Br*athturn (tr P. Joris, 1995)



Hidd*n in Plain Vi*w.


Chol*ra.


Typhoid.


Dys*nt*ry.