The Unsound Sculptor - by
Critics heard a metaphor. / But after he died, his archive was found: / a thousand tapes of silence-
Critics heard a metaphor. / But after he died, his archive was found: / a thousand tapes of silence-
Merkin time in the reel thegither / ye’ll be cantin the sang wi me
If only I could hear the soundtrack. Anyone / in this business knows that nothing good comes / after an embrace like that.
Fàilte dhachaigh / Dhan na claisichean / Far an d’fhuaireas
Neòinean, bròg na cuthaig’, beàrnan-Brìd’, / gach dìthean a chinneas anns a’ ghàrradh;
Bhreab sinn tuill nar brògan fhèin /
agus slighe ghogach tro threallaich na bliadhna
Nì grian nan uinneagan àrda / Pàtrain ealanta / A leansas mo pheansail air pàipear.
Muir mhìreanach, lainnireach, dhrithleannach, mhear / Le solas srianach, iom-sgarach a’ dannsa air feadh thonn is sgòth / A’ glasadh, a’ dubhadh is a’ dathadh adhar is fonn.
Digesting other life, against its will, / diversified after the early Cambrian.
And the sky opens out above all the glass / inaccessible VIP pathways. / How did we get here like this?
The other planes only come at night. They swoop in
grey and big-bellied.
Imagine our / bodies swimming, reading books, no split into pieces.
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