B. Sven Telander
Comments about B. Sven Telander
terminus a quo
Sometimes they recall the detonation
of elemental laughter splattered across
the cosmic template; a galactic spasm,
a demonic ballet, eldritch, prismatic:
the creation cataract.
Memory blossoms under a symphony of
plutonic rain and the usurping wind
of the dead. Prowling the ancient
streets beneath a half-moon of riddled
fluorescent ivory, he was glad to find
wine and the woman with no face; her
sacrosanct kisses codify the gentle
torment; her wine, an ...
Sweeping up feathers
and broken stained glass
on an infinite Sunday,
he dabs with white sleeve
at his forehead
anointed with holy sweat.
Divine debris of all