the power of yodelling

By -
the song rushes forth from the swollen lips of large helga, its piercing and booming borne from the depths of her plump bosom and stretching out to the very peaks and troughs of the range, the sound bridging and collapsing the intervening space into a single, ice-crystallized moment. a thought is all it would take for her, lungs and all, to snap herself across this bridge to any point she chooses, with only a slightly nauseating sensation of being twisted inside out in the process. she holds the moment steady, the deeply resonating "oooooh" seeming to shiver through the cold morning air before crackling to a halt, unused.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

from the corridors of evelyn's mind

By -
a couple of days ago i came across the following poem from evelyn amber beltser , and was so moved i simply *had* to translate it: .ככה זה טוב ככה זה טוב - לא פחות ולא יותר יותר, יותר, יותר" - ההד של הקיבעון" - .משוטת במזדרונות של המוח ,אם הייתי בית מלון המזדרונות האלו היו הקומה הסגורה שלי .שהמעליות לא מגיעות עליה .בכל סרט אימה מכובד יש כזאת ,לפעמים אני חושבת שלמרות כל הקירבה אנחנו כל כך מרוחקים שאם התודעות שלנו היו כוכבים עדיין הייתי יושבת פה ומחכה לאור של אחרים להגיע that's good. that's good - no less and no more - "more, more, more" - an echo of fixation sails through the corridors of my brain. if i was a hotel, these corridors would be my sealed floor that the elevators wouldn't reach. every respectable horror movie has one. sometimes i think that despite all the proximity, we are so far away from each other that if our minds were the stars i would still be sitting here waiting for the light of others to arrive.
Read more

step away from the vehicle

By -
Image
we submit ourselves to wage slavery in order to commit our children to the unsavory in the vain hopes of them training through the competitive pre-primary-secondary-tertiary production line that tunnels straight into the factories of the forgotten far below the morbid mountains of misdirected minds competing for golden tickets to burn out churning and burning oils and animals, oceans and jungles to line other peoples' pockets  and that’s if they’re not broken down by the social education engine first we measure our successes in days and nights overflowing with busywork and bureaucracies we measure our failures in welfare cheques with strings attached to draw and quarter us down into charities instead of the very communities that they were supposed to be uplifting we passionately play job roulette in the hope of winning roles that won't *only* pay us to be miserable we optimize our fad diets, ingest caffeine and pop pills but still it takes every ounce of will we can muster jus...
Read more