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Come Fly with Death: Poems Inspired by the Artwork of Zdzislaw Beksinski Kindle Edition
This month's Book With Buzz: "The Lying Game" by Ruth Ware
From the instant New York Times bestselling author of blockbuster thrillers "In a Dark, Dark Wood" and "The Woman in Cabin 10" comes Ruth Ware’s chilling new novel. See more
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Our bones are thus invited to serve as the root to a relationship allowing the using of all five senses after death, carving out new perceptions of our current life such as passions, love and admiration to exist that one last time before the earth swallows the memory of ‘us’ forever.
At first glance, one not used to the abstraction of fascination with decay telling our story, might not see the core realities of the images Wesley puts before us without sugar coating or compromise. He beautifully puts us out of our comfort zone by contrasting between the pendulum of lights of compassion and the abyss of hell in all its fury.
For example, in his poem, Hold, Celestial child, “Hold! Hold! Hold! Grip the moon and hold…Hold child! Feel the sun inside your palms, taste the milk on ocean’s lips.” As opposed to his poem, Piper at the gates of hell, where we read, “…in tune will rattle the bones and tickle the ears of corpses…I compose in drips and shadow. My flute is made of marrow.”
Wesley D. Gray is in fact ‘in tune’ with the artwork of Beksinski, illustrating the fine line of light and darkness, Heaven and Hell. Lending a choice between a perception which allows our hearts and souls to suffer the consequences of fear or in contrast, feel liberated by marrying grey. With the ability to hear a drum that tells us sometimes we need to entertain the deepest darkness in order to feel the happiness that illuminates beyond the Cosmos, even deeper than the heat of our Earth’s core, with a final resting in existential mania.
Hands whisper in her mist;
leaving but impressions of an echo--
tickling remnants of a relic touch.
Arachnid curl around her throat,
choking her down to faded breath.
Vertebrae tongue laps upon her breast,
tasting the haunt of a former self."
Gray is alternately drawing from his own imagination and Beksinski's, and the accompaniment turns out horribly well. He interlaces these poems with existential and sacred themes. For fans of Brennan, Ligotti or Bacovia, I'd heavily recommend this poet.