Thursday, October 17, 2019

Backwash of the Rotors

There will or won't be reports from the breakfast lounge of the Comfort Inn in Chelsea Michigan tomorrow and/or Saturday and/or Sunday, if yes I'll let you know if the TV is tuned to the Weather Channel


Tom Clark

The god of war assured King Arsounas, “Do not be fooled by words. No life is taken. Know that no one was ever born, nor does anyone die.” In the violent mini-eternity of the warrior, combat is conducted according to a ritual formal as song: no one is ever born, no one can ever die. The left-handed rockabilly guitarist whose left arm was severed by an RPG round at Dak To has come back to life in a part of my body that died long before we started to patrol this part of the river of eternal woe. His life is mine though I never lived it. The violent backwash of the rotors is crimsoned by a fine aerosol spray of blood while a loudspeaker amplifies the goddess’ excited laughter.

1 comment:

  1. I would take a ride on that Commonwealth rail corridor, for sure.

    If you blogged about libraries all the time, I'd never scoff.

    Safe travels, love to Planet and Air. I'm off in a couple of hours to see Sasha's daughter in Texas (replacing a mideast swing for this weekend that fell through).