not far from ravine
|
|
down with nothing between
|
|
stratum after stratum
level by level |
|
aspect dreary,
degraded Babylon |
|
Rusted shade of fog
sockets of dust |
|
ruins chaotic
strewn wreck gigantic |
|
tracks in dirt
Promonontory Wall |
|
no art detected
shapeless intermingled marl |
|
mercurial insomnias |
|
granulated traces
desolate sight immense |
|
Eyelids holes pouring
long eyes on desert |
|
elsewhere found immediate
distant view several |
|
vigil skull as basin
mist into silhouette |
|
concealment proceeded
|
|
shadow recedes vanishing trees keep going |
|
thrown from precipice
cast aside order |
|
minutes pass roving
light without light |
|
firing quick purpose
ever killing masters |
|
one who sits on edge
one who listens never |
|
rapidly had reality
dead in contemplation |
words arranged from one page each:
THE BEAK DOCTOR by Eric BASSO
THE NARRATIVE OF ARTHUR GORDON PYM by Edgar Allan POE