... The man, in his dying throes, is pinned by the surrounding crowd. He feels their hot pressure, their hunger for his life. They are winding it out of him on their spindles....From State Pathologist by Mairead Byrne.
Friday, February 26, 2010
on her spindle - mairead byrne
Happened upon the BEST prose poems by Mairead Byrne - taut, stimulating, visceral. Oh yes that! Where language pants and you pant too, can't breathe and neither can you ...
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I sprayed a spider with insecticide the other day and it dropped on a thick thread of silk with its legs akimbo - just reminded me of it - what a great description. Spindles - all the fairy tales and imagery just that one word brings to mind - wonderful!
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