(by Andreas Marshall)

Hell is for Children.


'One pillar holding up consolations,
another pillar,
a duplicate pillar, pillarous
and like the grandchild of a dark door.
Lost noise, the one, listening, at the edge of fatigue;
drinking, the other, two by two, with handles.

Don't I perhaps know the year of this day,
the hatred of this love, the planks of this forehead?
Don't I know that this afternoon costs days?
Don't I know that never does one say "never," on one's knees?

The pillars that I saw are listening to me;
other pillars are, twos and sad grandchildren of my leg.
I say it in American copper
which owes to silver so much fire!

Consoled by third marriages,
pallid, born,
I am going to close my baptismal font, this showcase,
this fright with tits,
this finger in deathrow,
heartily tied to my skeleton.'

--Eshleman's Vallejo


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Hello Kali.