No Echo In This Place
April 5, 2009 at 3:10 pmPosted in music Tags: agoraphobia, burried alive, dead rooms, deerhunter, pompeii, reverb, vesuvius
I live sturdy Pompeii. I lust long at the market.
From a distance. Behind buildings. Beneath blanket, skin, and sinew. I squint (and lust long at market).
I live within dead room to live sturdy Pompeii. With never response. With never linger. Where each word, each breath and part-me plummets leaden to the floor, a silent tenfold-gravity that amputates my toes.
Where all those scattered part-me — word, breath, and every — squint (and lust long). And I, shuffling toeless between them, am unafraid, uncrowded. A quiet empty, far from market.
The man for whom Vesuvius was a godsend.
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