Vertigo After Hieronymus Bosch, “The Garden of Earthly Delights,” triptych right panel B
Vertigo After Hieronymus Bosch, “The Garden of Earthly Delights,” triptych right panel But all dark notes are dismantledthere from the middle eardownward. Voyaged mind, cauldron skin.Can you claim anything is yours?The burning salt hourthrows its black broken-glass frame skyward.Left behindthe mum orchestra, body parts in periland animals dizzy forlust past all lostastronomy and wipeout,this naked edible overjoy, a kindof suicide in syllables, fifth panic, fourth stall’s bird-fermata, thishalf ocean’s susurrus is coming over us in the picture. Can you akin? Can youhear it, pinned to the unseasonable underearth, an option for music and waterconstantly changing shape, an answerin dissonance? To hear desireis to wake yourself inside, upturned,long enough to knowtomorrow is exile. Chaos, body harp,and painted butt music, crowd-crawl, rosecrowned to the chest, rabbitcall and playing cards… listen,I’m hell-humming inyour direction, giddy, I am too takento leave it alone, the willlocked in as if it is already inside of me now: to fall.Let’s be clear,my darling, in the reeling crave, spilled gut-platterof enclosed bones, inthe final flesh-clean drop, it soundslike fire risingwith the cliff’s updraft.-Elena Karina Byrne, Poetry October 2018 -- source link
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