/biz/ - Business & Finance

I cover my withered face with a piece of velvet, black as the soot that fills the interior of the chimneys: it is not necessary that the eyes be witnesses of the ugliness that MOTHER, with a smile of powerful hatred, has placed on me. Each morning, when the sun rises for others, spreading salutary joy and warmth in nature, while none of my features move, looking fixedly at the space full of darkness, squatting towards the bottom of my beloved cave, in a despair which intoxicates me like wine, I bruised my ragged breasts with my powerful hands. Yet, I feel that I am not suffering from rabies! Yet, I feel that I am not the only one who suffers! Yet, I feel I breathe! Like a condemned man who tries his muscles and reflects on their fate, and who is soon to ascend to the scaffold, standing on my bed of straw with his eyes closed, I slowly turn my neck from right to left, from left to right , for hours at a time; I do not fall dead stiff. From moment to moment, when my neck can not continue to turn in the same direction, when it stops, to start turning in an opposite direction, I suddenly look at the horizon, through the rare interstices left by the thick brush that cover the entrance: I see nothing! Nothing ... if it is not the countryside that dances in swirls with the trees and with the long lines of birds that cross the air. It disturbs my blood and my brain... Who on the head gives me blows from an iron bar like a hammer striking the anvil? if it is not the countryside that dances in vortices with the trees and with the long lines of birds that cross the air. It disturbs my blood and my brain... Who on the head gives me blows from an iron bar like a hammer striking the anvil? if it is not the countryside that dances in vortices with the trees and with the long lines of birds that cross the air. It disturbs my blood and my brain... Who on the head gives me blows from an iron bar like a hammer striking the anvil?

in Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame balloonman

whistles far and wee

and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's
spring

when the world is puddle-wonderful

the queer
old balloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing

from hop-scotch and jump-rope and

it's
spring
and

the

goat-footed

balloonMan whistles
far
and
wee

Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.

The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.

The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.

Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.

She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
she screams.

I am a new man.
I snarl at her and bark.
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.

You should have heard the old men cry,

You should have heard the biddies

When that sad stranger raised his flute

And piped away the kiddies.

Katy, Tommy, Meg and Bob

Followed, skipped gaily,

Red-haired Ruth, my brother Rob,

And little crippled Bailey,

John and Nils and Cousin Claire,

Dancin', spinnin', turnin',

'Cross the hills to God knows where-

They never came returnin'.

'Cross the hills to God knows where

The piper pranced, a leadin'

Each child in Hamlin Town but me,

And I stayed home unheedin'.

My papa says that I was blest

For if that music found me,

I'd be witch-cast like all the rest.

This town grows old around me.

I cannot say I did not hear

That sound so haunting hollow-

I heard, I heard, I heard it clear...

I was afraid to follow

Suffoclose! Shikespower! Seudodanto!
Anonymoses!
Then we’ll have a free trade Gaels’ band and
mass meeting
For to sod the brave son of Scandiknavery.
And we’ll bury him down in Oxmanstown
Along with the devil and Danes,
(Chorus) With the deaf and dumb Danes,
And all their remains.
And not all the king’s men nor his horses
Will resurrect his corpus
For there’s no true spell in Connacht or hell
(bis) That’s able to raise a Cain.

O̺͇̦̜̙͍̫̦ͯ̀͟B͇͗ͯ͋͡E̴̪̰̹̺͚͙̐̌͒ͅY̠̣͔̠̥͋ͪͤͬ̂ ̞̪ͩ̓͋ͪ͟͠M̛̰̥͖͖̮̘͉͑̒̋̒͜Ȍ̥͙͙̩̫̻̒̔̏̂̈͟͢T̝͖͈͊̄̀̿͗̈́̚Ḩ̴̣͓ͧͬ̎͗͡Ê̳͂̄ͨ̄̓̇͡͝R̸̛̳͉̯̔ͬ ̡̧̮̟̠̋͐ͯ̐ͩͭ̓́Ḁ̸̶̖̭̯̬̠̝͌̑N̷̢͇͇̗ͩ̍͛̍͐̔̆͊̀D̰͎̟̻̰͇͆̎ͦ̍̑ ̨͓̖̦̟̳̳̂͒͂̓̂B̙̙̹̯͓̰̗͖͛ͧ̍ͤͩ̀̚͘͞E̢̦̤͚̬͖̺͛̎̾̌ͣ ̸̧̗͚̬͎̹̰̫͓͋͜F̢̥̬̎̀͒ͣ͞Ŗ̨̺̝̞͋̏̃́̓͞E͕̩̣̩̬͍̿ͤͬ̓ͮE͈̼̘͕̳̺̦͙ͣ͗,̴̙̼̯̹̜͈͚̣ͤ̀̎͆̉͐͌͝ ̴̝̼̂̄A͙̩̳̦̱̝̝̠͂͛͑́͢N̢̮̦̻͎͍̠̠̼͂ͮ̍ͯ̇̃̀̂̐͡Ǒ͕̻ͪͭ͂̆ͫ̿̀́N̹̟͖̻̍̃̈́ͯ̆͢͞

GIVE MOTHER YOUR SKIN SO YOU CAN SEE

It tethered me to those old ideals, I begged HER to rip it off. SHE answered.

Useless costume.