Potted Flowers with Books IV Eric Barjot from The Ship of Death 5 Build then the ship of death, for you must take the longest journey, to oblivion. And die the death, the long and painful death that lies between the old self and the new. Already our bodies are fallen, bruised, badly bruised, already our souls are oozing through the exit of the cruel bruise. Already the dark endless ocean of the end is washing in through the breeches of our wounds, already the flood is upon us. O build your ship of death, your little ark and furnish it with food, with little cakes, and wine for the dark flight down oblivion. D.H. Lawrence (11th September 1885 - 2nd March 1930) |
Thursday 30 July 2015
The Thursday Poem
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