Dies: A Sentence
defined by way of John Witte of the Northwest evaluate as “a surprise of sustained synergy,” and by means of writer Jim Krusoe as “dizzyingly complex,” Place’s unmarried 117-page sentence unmoors time and house as its legless narrator recounts the struggle trip that has lead him to his ultimate element of ultimate fact, subsequent to an armless guy making stew. As poet and student Susan McCabe says in her advent, “Roll over, pricey Whitman. Here’s our new original.”
Time feel relies on the spatial mechanics of Place’s commas; instead of the end-stop, she prefers the rocking caesura, the likes of Ezra Pound’s “Seafarer” poet, who in his rendition of heart English, offers the bitter-sweet exile faring erratically and alliteratively on an oral experience; during this text’s like tones, it was once sour chilly and worse hot (53); there's a babe within the basket and one at the bone (54). certainly, the architectonics of Dies calls upon the aural touchstones, not just of.
Jean, let’s do the fandango, you name me Boolie and I’ll wear my puttees, we’ll fain twain be, and our homologous love a musical novelty, we’ll postulate our life as though weweremetamemephysicalpoets, patapouf, patapouf, we’ll dreeple and drizzle, drizzen and drouchle, we’ll prove the tables and sharpen our spoons, we’ll droon through the sunshine of the slavery oracle, affix goldthreaded roses to the napes of our necks and swing ahead and again like reassured thieves, for i admire you and also you love.
Toss itself from the boat’s backside, yet have been limited during this by way of their communal components, ultimately, just like the fish, red-slitted facets dilating open, hinging closed, their eyes began to cloud, and so they fell into an exhausted and agitate silence, rendered substance, Rosenrot to Rosenrot, and Rosenrot back, the executioner hoisted the good wooden wheel, banded round the rim by means of a layer of sentimental wept lead, and dropped it near-comically throughout their reciprocate ticker, and Rosenrot gasped and Rosenrot.
suggest, John, and that i imagine through now you do, it used to be a trench-mortar, the devil’s personal handclap and applesauce, it percussed the eardrums to bursting and that i used to be bleeding from either ears, these have been my moment and 3rd wounds, and the floor lower than me cracked and heaved hellward, males have been dropped, tossed and buried, saving Time, who used to be serving his sentence in different places, the mortar aborted many the place they stood, one of these castling’d’ve sprung envy from my very own mother’s unfixed eye, one yob cleared, yanked.
it really is, too, boasting of its unfold and coloration should you and that i either understand it’s bought not anything to move on approximately, and they’d see it too, within the subsequent millennium, this time slouching to Brigadoon, yet now not in Jerusalem, watch it, now, giggle like that and you’re absolute to allure shooters, I’m telling you, subsequent to choosing off a guy with a snootful of cerises aux chocolat, or a brandy Alexander, they prefer not anything greater than to head gunning for the grinning, the sorry bastard busting a intestine, there it is going, you could.