sodden logs melt into bogs
vernal mists and thawing swamps
molasses and fenland in rasputitsa
the corpse of a beautiful naiad
decomposes into the sump of the ground
clasping the sceptre of the usurper
as poison ivy wreaths her decayed head
the ochre blood stinks sour
an aphotic hue of dead human skin
a palette of natural colors grotesque :
a solitary death in the Byelorusian boglands
Uppsala's premier sewer-rat - the town's least prolific amateur wordsmith. poetry-attempts seeped in the historical, the mythical and the ever-so-human. A fiery follower of the 'Poete maudit' tradition. Apocalypticist and eschatological. Anti-modern. Decadent, spiritual, extreme, beautiful, dystopian, romantic. Personal, confessional, devotional. Everything posted = work in progress. This blog writes under the banner of, and in ever allegiance to, The End Commune (2012-2022; revived in 2025)
Thursday, October 5, 2023
"SPRING SCENE IN A BYELORUSIAN BOGLAND"
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