swans

"Doesn't really matter, you know, what kind of nasty names people invent for the music. But, uh, folk music is just a word, you know, that I can't use anymore. What I'm talking about is traditional music, right, which is to say it's mathematical music, it's based on hexagons. But all these songs about, you know, roses growing out of people's brains and lovers who are really geese and swans are turning into angels - I mean, you know, they're not going to die. They're not folk music songs. They're political songs. They're already dead."
Jude, I'm Not There.

Illustration of goose from here.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Vesuvius

there is a fire that consumed the palace in the night and no one saw the orange and red and yellow and no one felt the heat.
everyone slept through it, the fire in the night.
only the queen felt her crown was melting from rooms away, and when she got there, the soles of her feet were raw, the meat and bone of the queen, in the fire in the night.
and she said, ‘dear me,’ as she saw her melting crown, as she saw a pool of gold, another shade of yellow, with a glimmer and a richness, in the fire in the night.
she tried to collect the pool of gold in her hands in the fire in the night, scooping a molten treasure up and trying to gather it in her nightgown. soon the gold had frozen in the crevices of her fingerprints and then she used her mouth to save the crown, this molten crown. the queen, with the crown swimming in her stomach, in the fire in the night.
long live the queen, another shade of yellow in the fire in the night. long live the queen, who was the fire in the palace in the night.
written by M at 10:42 PM

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angels