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Francis Bacon

Francis Bacon Sean McDonnell Always in these faces I've been found, these dry dreams in which pain burrows. Each day inside these walls I spend myself until empty of myself I sing like a bell I sing like a bride of Christ. But always when I sleep the human snail inscribes its trail of meat beneath my skin so when I wake I wake remade. Never mind what the clean say. Let them scream all they want. Let them scream through the bars in my head. I am the matter. I am the only subject. * Our story is this simple, always. Rented beasts tethered in a room where the king lies dead intestate. There's no one to say whose we are. Just blood on the floor, his ring on a plate, our ingrown hopes we cast away like hands we've lost the feel for. 45 * At you sir I thumb my eyes my seeing wounds in which pain-burrows I swear I am never found wanting. Peggy Shumaker Upset Woman after a drawing by Florence Napaaq Malewotuk Napaaq drew in ink the sure lines of anguish, a young woman nearly naked weeping so hard her hands can not hide http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Prairie Schooner University of Nebraska Press

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Publisher
University of Nebraska Press
Copyright
Copyright © 2005 by the University of Nebraska Press.
ISSN
1542-426X
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

Sean McDonnell Always in these faces I've been found, these dry dreams in which pain burrows. Each day inside these walls I spend myself until empty of myself I sing like a bell I sing like a bride of Christ. But always when I sleep the human snail inscribes its trail of meat beneath my skin so when I wake I wake remade. Never mind what the clean say. Let them scream all they want. Let them scream through the bars in my head. I am the matter. I am the only subject. * Our story is this simple, always. Rented beasts tethered in a room where the king lies dead intestate. There's no one to say whose we are. Just blood on the floor, his ring on a plate, our ingrown hopes we cast away like hands we've lost the feel for. 45 * At you sir I thumb my eyes my seeing wounds in which pain-burrows I swear I am never found wanting. Peggy Shumaker Upset Woman after a drawing by Florence Napaaq Malewotuk Napaaq drew in ink the sure lines of anguish, a young woman nearly naked weeping so hard her hands can not hide

Journal

Prairie SchoonerUniversity of Nebraska Press

Published: May 18, 2005

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