Telling the Future Off
I'm certainly far from the first to mention it, but I've just started reading Stephanie Young's Telling the Future Off and finding it delightful. Here's the first piece, a quietly disquieting prose poem. Or, maybe it's nostalgically apocalyptic.
A LION THAT WILL FLY WITH HIS FACE BACKWARD
As we are given it, a dog-eared business. Pause while I stop to speak with the dogs. For soon they will be old and learning nothing. They will be mine, and very tired. Such is the cul-de-sac. Should we rise to view the meteors fall, our nature in the dark is both common and elusive. A newsprint we hunt for its hide. In the morning you can't have opinions about the stars. They should not have shot themselves another direction and neither should the paragraph struggle to eclipse the pargraph. Still we give chase, the dogs bay, the lion's face is very beautiful, with holes cut out for the eyes.
A LION THAT WILL FLY WITH HIS FACE BACKWARD
As we are given it, a dog-eared business. Pause while I stop to speak with the dogs. For soon they will be old and learning nothing. They will be mine, and very tired. Such is the cul-de-sac. Should we rise to view the meteors fall, our nature in the dark is both common and elusive. A newsprint we hunt for its hide. In the morning you can't have opinions about the stars. They should not have shot themselves another direction and neither should the paragraph struggle to eclipse the pargraph. Still we give chase, the dogs bay, the lion's face is very beautiful, with holes cut out for the eyes.
posted by The Sublibrarian at 19:14
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