Кор, брат Вэрки (miiir) wrote,
Кор, брат Вэрки

черный колокол: паки под шесть глаз (открыл 26.01)

Via: lxe ex черный колокол

Raven bell attack grated you bread of rye,
traded phosphate for manpower left of mean.
From the years of delusion distract your eye,
from the land of exposure look at me -

over janissaries' peaked caps,
over bone-mill paddles falling,
on your promises tightly kept,
on the twelve shoals of the foreland

sea is playing for us, and moon hand cue
to the quarry, and something was running hard
as you thrusted the avalanched patrol through
at the foolhardy classification yard.

Where the rails fork in four directions,
freights cool down and quench the sink
you will capture me in cross section
mid the layered cake's lead and zink

topped by roots of dormancy, mice and shrew,
topped by wind and nests and kaoliang.
On the blighted field we inhale the brew
we are spoken in, the ultimate tongue.

Like the turf-dwelling shrews and mice,
like the fuel above the burner,
hearken membraneless to my sighs,
touch me gloveless in my dark corner.

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