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FROM THE LAKESHORE, or A Few Cuttings Randomly Weeded Out From an Unpublished Typescript of YoreScrap the Fifth
No word for beauty—no word for stabbing wringing horror. Time flowing here at the hotel— swelling, mined from ye inside— Here, from stale, gone by concepts of time and so-called reality we brake loose for awhile— Only a dismal memory brings us back filling...
FROM THE LAKESHORE, or A Few Cuttings Randomly Weeded Out From an Unpublished Typescript of YoreScrap the Fourth
A fleeting time for lovers—a fleeting chance of love—for a fleeting time, delight—Love— Here, hanging over an horror and beyond— A farewell—a life as unknown as ever— Hands whirling in the air—Against this bewitching delight a new life shattered itself—We...
FROM THE LAKESHORE, or A Few Cuttings Randomly Weeded Out From an Unpublished Typescript of YoreScrap the Third
… Tanks are crawling in ye medieval streets of ye ancient town– Unmoving, strained, alone, I sit—the sun of march, 1977, drills my skin— I had never lived—even playing shadows were no more— Murder did spread itself in a cool darkness of march, 1977— Everything...
FROM THE LAKESHORE, or A Few Cuttings Randomly Weeded Out From an Unpublished Typescript of YoreScrap the Second
Here only to rest— Here I spent everything—alone— mirroring for awhile—and smile. Illusion—Illusion— Skylines and lakes, and this same illusion— heard here in loneliness. At least a wish to cry—in a room— to cry for a woman to be here—lust, longing— Of...
FROM THE LAKESHORE, or A Few Cuttings Randomly Weeded Out From an Unpublished Typescript of YoreScrap the First
Streams never wear away. Our memories are coming afloat in a stream of thought—here. That’s something you tend to forget. A young man, a young woman, walking one beside the other. An old ceiling cobweb —Horror—Unceasing wailing. «The first thing I saw,...
Life Pieced Together Among the Ruins: A Fragment
Afar, in dark hotel rooms, alone, and fading sadness, fading shadows—a light sounding wind and no word for beauty, here, nor for hurting, stabbing horror heard here in loneliness, in dark hotel rooms, afar… A sweet girl arow sadly sitting alone, afar—lust...