Monday, September 11, 2006

Only Revolutions

Mark Z Danielewski's new novel, Only Revolutions drops tomorrow. The story follows post-postmodern lovers Sam and Hailley as they revolve through 200 years of history, themselves perpetually sixteen. Advance speculation says the book is sure to amaze and annoy with its puzzles and conceits. Check out the link for some exquisite spoken word (transcribed below).

we're the unmended, the untended cold soldiers of the shoe
we're the neglected, the never resurrected agonies of the few
we're the once-kissed, unmissed, and always refused
because we're the unfinished, and feared
and we're never pursued

and just that easily, on my behalf
I come around

because I'm burning

the beasts of war feed only on the meats of war
and now I'm for carnage

here's how my anguish frees:

destroy everyone of course
because I'm unwanted
and unsafe
and I'll take tears away with torments and rape
killings and fears not even the dead will escape
and circling the guilty and ashamed
blameless and enslaved, absolved
butchering their prejudice, patience, their value
because I'm without value
I'm the coming of every holocaust
turning no lost rending tissue sinew and bone
accepting no suffering
by me all levees will break
all silos heave
I will walk heavy
and I will walk strange

because I am too soon
because without her
I am only revolutions of ruin

because I am too soon
because without you
I am only revolutions of ruin

we're always sixteen
we are all-ways sixteen

I'm the prophesy prophesies pass
my need dies at last
how oceans dry, islands drown
and skies of salt crash to the ground
I turn the powerful, defy the weak
only grass grows down abandoned streets

for a greater economy shall follow us
and it will be undone
and a greater autonomy shall follow us
and it, too, will be undone
and a greater feeling shall follow love
and it, too, we will blow to dust
for I am longings without trust
the cycloidal haste freedom from Hailley forever wastes

dust cares only for dust
and time, only for us

because I am too soon
because without her
I am only revolutions of ruin

because I am too soon
because without you
I am only revolutions of ruin


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1 comment:

august said...

Excellent. Reminds me a bit of Christopher Logue's retelling of the Illiad:

They passed so close that hub skinned hub.
Ahead, Patroclus braked a shade, and then,
Gracefully as men in oilskins cast
Fake insects over trout,
He speared the boy,
And with his hip his pivot, prised Thestor up and out
As easily as later men detach
A sardine from an opened tin.