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/lit/ - Literature

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>> No.9485238 [View]
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9485238

What's /lit/'s opinion on J Newsom? Personally, I think she and her music are lovely.

>> No.9036916 [View]
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9036916

>> No.8668049 [View]
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8668049

From the top of the flight
of the wide, white stairs,
through the rest of my life,
do you wait for me there?

There’s a bell in my ears.
There’s the wide, white roar.
Drop a bell down the stairs.
Hear it fall forevermore.
Hear it fall forevermore.

Drop a bell off of the dock.
Blot it out in the sea.
Drowning mute as a rock;
and sounding mutiny.

There’s a light in the wings, hits the system of strings,
from the side, where they swing —
see the wires, the wires, the wires.
And the articulation in our elbows and knees
makes us buckle;
and we couple in endless increase
as the audience admires.

And the little white dove,
made with love, made with love;
made with glue, and a glove, and some pliers

swings a low sickle arc, from its perch in the dark:
settle down, settle down, my desire.

And the moment I slept, I was swept up in a terrible tremor.
Though no longer bereft, how I shook! And I couldn’t remember.
And then the furthermost shake drove a murthering stake in,
and cleft me right down through my center.
And I shouldn’t say so, but I know that it was then, or never.

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