Damocles & At The Trident
Damocles Drink me down and dry, Damocles. Now we rise too late to greet the dawn. If we could hear the noise from our star it would pound, jackhammer-dull, burr-burr-burr; if the sun blinked-out, we would count down thirteen minutes (twelve, eleven) until darkness gulped us. The sound would outlast the last thing you ever saw. (eight, seven) (Can you imagine absence of vision/presence of sound, crumbled intimacy in the darkness— smashed by raised voices. Tolling intonations.