( via / me )

Creation.

"The locust armies warping, on the bark" --Royston's Lycophron

Gardom's Edge Rock Art.

"DEATH ROOM BLUES

Before the songs I sang there were the songs
they came from, patent shreds
of Babel, and the secret
Nineveh of back rooms in the dark.

Hour after hour
the night trains blundered through
from towns so far away and innocent
that everything I knew seemed fictional:

the squares of light beyond the paper mill
where wolves crept from the woods and found their way
to soft spots in the slick of memory;

the boy who killed his mother in her bed
for Jesus' sake.

Small wonder that I overcame my fear
of sweetness, when the only white I knew
was first snow at the margins of the world,

and any chore is sweeter, now,
than scripture, where the hand that smoothes away
each local asterisk of stripped desire

can seem so much like something I once lost
I'm half convinced that childhood never happened."

--John Burnside, Black Cat Bone (2011)

Mother and Daughter.