I’ll be collecting different writings here about depression and anxiety.
   

4-6-08
   

Cull & Flight

Sun-blotting span,
slow & sure like
cloud-shadow on
naked desert foothill.

Then the grinding talon,
the pluck from your post
like calyx culled from stem,

hooked through nape,
winged slow & lazy like
mosquitos rich with freight.

Sleep through all flap, swoop.

Now descend:
set on feet again,

or tucked in nest
to take tiny, blind
beaks to breast

   
C. Way/ SnailCrow.com © 2008

Snail shells are homes — always in-progress, always excrescing, always spiralling & nautilising outwards homes — for the artists, musicians, songs, poems, writers, people, places, planets, plums that I regularly burden with gush.

At least this way all the shameless enshrining can be contained.

Think of them as cockle shells built for endless barnacling.
   

   
2-11-08

Banshee Birth
   

At Town Hall I wished
His cover of Cohen’s “The Guests”
Would never end.

And then he had us all hum –
To feel the ghost behind our heads.
& in our necks.

The massed chest-drones were
Soft yellow fibers
Being braided through everyone.

A year later,
At the Warsaw in Brooklyn
He talked about being rapt
Before old videos of Otis

And when Antony sang
He’d seize moments, notes,
And shake them into endlessness
Just like Otis:

With fearlessness
With tender madness
With grinning pain

So again come ghosts:
He wrings their necks
In exorcising vibrato

Just as he calls them forth:
The banshee birth
   
   
   
Antony & The Johnsons Cds