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And Soon the Darkness

Cast: Amber Heard, Karl Urban, Odette Yustman, Adriana Barraza, Gia Mantegna

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Urban Time vs. Rural Time

3 am:
Urban time: Alarm clocks, hoots and toots
Rural time: Cocks crow, cows moo and weavers beaker

4 am:
Urban time: Whoever snoozed the alarm? Dress up… very scarcely
Rural time: Dust the mat; grab yesterday’s very hard ugali and into overall

5 am:
Urban time: Marikiti and Gikomba beat traffic – rush hour
Rural time: Milking and feeding; early bird catches the worm

6 am:
Urban time: Office not open, tarts hover at Koinange zonked with sleep
Rural time: Coffee farm supervisor calls out names – mine missing

7 am:
Urban time: Offspring sings national anthem in academy playfully
Rural time: Sibling barefoot sings “Yesu anipenda” without blasphemy

8 am:
Urban time: Yaaaawn! Hate work before it even begins – so monotonous
Rural time: Tea baskets at back, yard stick in hand, water jar on head

9 am:
Urban time: What took company tea so long? Was tea boy fired or what?
Rural time: Sing Mary oh, sing Mary oh… Market women return with empty baskets

10 am:
Urban time: Finally the tea is here… (Chit chat) I love this job!
Rural time: The sun’s scorching – take a breath beneath shade

11 am:
Urban time: Silence and whispered gossip, functional smiles and fake hugs
Rural time: Shout greeting from ridge to ridge and insults from bush to bush

12 pm:
Urban time: Yaaaaaawn! Bad date - fear the approach of the next hour
Rural time: Any one with a watch? The sun has hid beneath the cloud

1 pm:
Urban time: Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures – am dieting…
Rural time: Carry produce to factory, take a nap in the wilderness, and water the livestock

2 pm:
Urban time: Oh how I hate this! Parliament session on, but ethics dictate TV without volume
Rural time: Women plot today’s chama as men discuss the local barmaid’s “possessions”

3 pm:
Urban time: Who tampered with the office clock? I can see some hawkers outside…

[...] Read more

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The Amber Whale

WE were down in the Indian Ocean, after sperm, and three years out;
The last six months in the tropics, and looking in vain for a spout,—
Five men up on the royal yards, weary of straining their sight;
And every day like its brother,—just morning and noon and night—
Nothing to break the sameness: water and wind and sun
Motionless, gentle, and blazing,—never a change in one.
Every day like its brother: when the noonday eight-bells came,
'Twas like yesterday; and we seemed to know that to-morrow would be the same.
The foremast hands had a lazy time: there was never a thing to do;
The ship was painted, tarred down, and scraped; and the mates had nothing new.
We'd worked at sinnet and ratline till there wasn't a yarn to use,
And all we could do was watch and pray for a sperm whale's spout—or news.
It was whaler's luck of the vilest sort; and, though many a volunteer
Spent his watch below on the look-out, never a whale came near,—
At least of the kind we wanted: there were lots of whales of a sort,—
Killers and finbacks, and such like, as if they enjoyed the sport
Of seeing a whale-ship idle; but we never lowered a boat
For less than a blackfish, —there's no oil in a killer's or finback's coat.
There was rich reward for the look-out men,—tobacco for even a sail,
And a barrel of oil for the lucky dog who'd be first to 'raise' a whale.
The crew was a mixture from every land, and many a tongue they spoke;
And when they sat in the fo'castle, enjoying an evening smoke,
There were tales told, youngster, would make you stare—stories of countless shoals
Of devil-fish in the Pacific and right-whales away at the Poles.
There was one of these fo'castle yarns that we always loved to hear,—
Kanaka and Maori and Yankee; all lent an eager ear
To that strange old tale that was always new,—the wonderful treasure-tale
Of an old Down-Eastern harpooneer who had struck an Amber Whale!
Ay, that was a tale worth hearing, lad: if 'twas true we couldn't say,
Or if 'twas a yarn old Mat had spun to while the time away.

'It's just fifteen years ago,' said Mat, 'since I shipped as harpooneer
On board a bark in New Bedford, and came cruising somewhere near
To this whaling-ground we're cruising now; but whales were plenty then,
And not like now, when we scarce get oil to pay for the ship and men.
There were none of these oil wells running then,—at least, what shore folk term
An oil well in Pennsylvania,—but sulphur-bottom and sperm
Were plenty as frogs in a mud-hole, and all of 'em big whales, too;
One hundred barrels for sperm-whales; and for sulphur-bottom, two.
You couldn't pick out a small one: the littlest calf or cow
Had a sight more oil than the big bull whales we think so much of now.
We were more to the east, off Java Straits, a little below the mouth,—
A hundred and five to the east'ard and nine degrees to the south;
And that was as good a whaling-ground for middling-sized, handy whales
As any in all the ocean; and 'twas always white with sails
From Scotland and Hull and New England,—for the whales were thick as frogs,
And 'twas little trouble to kill 'em then, for they lay as quiet as logs.
And every night we'd go visiting the other whale-ships 'round,
Or p'r'aps we'd strike on a Dutchman, calmed off the Straits, and bound
To Singapore or Batavia, with plenty of schnapps to sell

[...] Read more

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Geoffrey Chaucer

The Canterbury Tales; the Seconde Nonnes Tale

The Prologe of the Seconde Nonnes Tale.

The ministre and the norice unto vices,
Which that men clepe in Englissh ydelnesse,
That porter of the gate is of delices,
To eschue, and by hir contrarie hir oppresse,
(That is to seyn by leveful bisynesse),
Wel oghten we to doon al oure entente,
Lest that the feend thurgh ydelnesse us shente.

For he, that with hise thousand cordes slye
Continuelly us waiteth to biclappe,
Whan he may man in ydelnesse espye,
He kan so lightly cacche hym in his trappe,
Til that a man be hent right by the lappe,
He nys nat war the feend hath hym in honde.
Wel oghte us werche, and ydelnesse withstonde.

And though men dradden nevere for to dye,
Yet seen men wel by resoun, doutelees,
That ydelnesse is roten slogardye,
Of which ther nevere comth no good encrees;
And seen that slouthe hir holdeth in a lees,
Oonly to slepe, and for to ete and drynke,
And to devouren al that othere swynke.

And for to putte us fro swich ydelnesse,
That cause is of so greet confusioun,
I have heer doon my feithful bisynesse,
After the legende, in translacioun
Right of thy glorious lyf and passioun,
Thou with thy gerland wroght with rose and lilie,
Thee meene I, mayde and martir, seint Cecilie.

Invocacio ad Mariam.

And thow that flour of virgines art alle,
Of whom that Bernard list so wel to write,
To thee at my bigynnyng first I calle,
Thou confort of us wrecches, do me endite
Thy maydens deeth, that wan thurgh hir merite

The eterneel lyf, and of the feend victorie,
As man may after reden in hir storie.

Thow mayde and mooder, doghter of thy sone,
Thow welle of mercy, synful soules cure,
In whom that God for bountee chees to wone,
Thow humble and heigh, over every creature
Thow nobledest so ferforth oure nature,

[...] Read more

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(Undone) Sweater Song

Matt:] Hey bra, how we doin' man?
[Karl:] All right.
[Matt:] It's been a while man, life's so rad!
This band's my favorite man, don't ya love 'em?
[Karl:] Yeah.
[Matt:] Aw man, you want a beer?
[Karl:] All right.
[Matt:] Aw man, this is the best. I'm so glad we're all back together and stuff.
This is great, man.
[Karl:] Yeah.
[Matt:] Hey, did you know about the party after the show?
[Karl:] Yeah.
[Matt:] Aw man, it's gonna be the best, I'm so stoked! Take it easy bra'.
I'm me
Me be
Goddamn
I am
I can
Sing and
Hear me
Know me
If you want to destroy my sweater
Hold this thread as I walk away
[Mykel:] Hey, what's up?
[Karl:] Not much.
[Mykel:] Did you hear about the party?
[Karl:] Yeah.
[Mykel:] Um, I think I'm gonna go but, um, my friends don't really wanna go. Could I get a ride?
Oh no
It go
It gone
Bye-bye
Who I
I think
I sink
And I die
If you want to destroy my sweater
Hold this thread as I walk away
Watch me unravel, I'll soon be naked
Lying on the floor (lying on the floor)
I've come undone
If you want to destroy my sweater
Hold this thread as I walk away (as I walk away)
Watch me unravel, I'll soon be naked
Lying on the floor (lying on the floor)
I've come undone
I don't want to destroy your tank-top
Let's be friends and just walk away
It's good to see you lying there in your Superman skivvies
Lying on the floor (lying on the floor)

[...] Read more

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W

While bodies bloated in dark water
floated past news dinghys
W was making mincemeat
of Karl on the ping pong table
Karl complained about W’s catlike moves
“You can’t beat me outright turdblossom”
“I’m on my game “ he said in his faux Texas jibe
Karl knew better than to play right handed
“You two better break this up, it’s lunchtime”
said the fawning wife who winked at Karl
Karl let W's weak slam sink the game
“ Good game tubby” snickered W
Karl thought of the big game in Florida
which he’d rigged for a W win
He felt glowing pride after lunch
like the virtuoso and his prodigy
watching W get in the golf cart
“I’m driving cause' I’m the Prez” drawled W
Karl thought, “If you only knew”.

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The World Isnt Fair

When karl marx was a boy
He took a hard look around
He saw people were starving all over the place
While others were painting the town
The public spirited boy
Became a public spirited man
So he worked very hard and he read everything
Until he came up with a plan
Therell be no exploitation
Of the worker or his kin
No discrimination cause of the color of your
Skin
No more private property
It would not be allowed
No one could rise too high
No one could sink too low
Or go under completely like some we all know
If marx were living today
Hed be rolling around in his grave
And if I had him here in my mansion on the hill
Id tell him a story twould give his old heart
A chill
Its something that happened to me
Id say, karl I recently stumbled
Into a new family
With two little children in school
Where all little children should be
I went to the orientation
All the young mommies were there
Karl, you never have seen such a glorious sight
As these beautiful women arrayed for the night
Just like countesses, empresses, movie stars and
Queens
And theyd come there with men much like me
Froggish men, unpleasant to see
Were you to kiss one, karl
Nary a prince would there be
Oh karl the world isnt fair
It isnt and never will be
They tried out your plan
It brought misery instead
If youd seen how they worked it
Youd be glad you were dead
Just like Im glad Im living in the land of the
Free
Where the rich just get richer
And the poor you dont ever have to see
It would depress us, karl
Because we care
That the world still isnt fair

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Panzer

Gretchen wept in her easy chair
And called for her husband, Karl,
They'd been together for sixty years,
Though both were worn and frail.
They'd met in the ruins of München, when
The Reich collapsed and fell,
Escaped to live in Australia
From their own idea of hell.

For Karl had served in the Wermacht,
In a Tank Corps at Dieppe,
Had served in the Panzergruppe von Kleist
Had roamed the Russian steppes,
His tank had taken him through Ukraine
They'd taken the plains by force,
But found their pain when the Russians came,
In their huge T-34's.

But that was the world of way back when,
For Karl was old and grey,
He slept a lot in his tidy home,
The nurse came every day,
His wife developed dementia, she'd
Forget where she used to roam,
So she was parted from husband Karl,
Was sent to a Nursing Home!

He walked with the aid of a walking frame,
He couldn't quite get around,
But listened for echoes of Gretchen's voice
In the house that made no sound,
And all he thought was to rescue her,
To bring his girl back home,
But the powers that be said: 'Wait and see! '
She was lost to him - Alone!

He went to visit her, once a week,
They held each other's hand,
She cried so much when he had to leave,
She never could understand,
And he was desolate every time,
He'd cling to her so tight,
That they had to prise his hand away
When they sent him away at night.

The nurses were harsh and businesslike,
To them it was just a job,
With no compassion for patients, they
Would leave all that to God.
Demented souls ran over his feet

[...] Read more

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The Ass Speaker Mutant - Part One

Once upon a time, in far away Germany, a happy couple waits for their childs to born.
All is well. All examinations are normal and, finaly, the great day came.
Herr Karl and his wife, Frau Inga, went to the hospital, but, after the childbirth the hospital was surrounded by a terrible rumor.
The newborn was transferred to a restricted nursery and his parents were not allowed to view it.
Herr Karl was angry with the doctors who did not let him see his son.
- It's not possible that's happening something with my son and you don't tell why.
Frau Inga was smarter.
He pretended to be resigned and went to the nursery where her son.
The doctors were left no choice but to tell all to Karl.
- Herr Karl, your son was born with an anomalous formation in his digestive system. We did not want to do it through this. would be easier to give the child as dead.
Frau Inga, finaly arrived at the nursery and found his son, isolated from everything.
- Tell me just once. What has my son? Said Herr Karl, nervous.
- His son was born with the digestive system reversed his anus is in the face, and his mouth is on the buttocks.
Herr Karl was paralyzed.
Frau Inga took his son in his arms, and noticed the strange mouth. A green and fetid secretion ran down a corner. She noted that it was feces. At that moment the baby started crying and her crying came from the buttocks. Startled, she turned and was horrified to discover that the child's mouth was on the butt.
The nurses prevented her and the baby to fall when she fainted.

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Urban Ugliness

Clothed in smoke and asphalt Peking ducks
anti-pollution regulations all
would see enforced, for ambulance on call
can't cater to health-hazards China chucks
out the proverbial window. Safety 'sucks'.
Mis- and man-handled boom pride rides to fall,
too many cities suffer urban sprawl,
- sink in many senseless senses - luck's
running out, as greed feeds 'come-unstucks'
falling life expectations sprinkle mall
and high-rise, cover all with sooty shawl
to leave behind waste land for cars and trucks.
What some would term an economic boom
confirms decay, wormed downp[l]ay, deadly doom.

Uniform urban ugliness, slab on slab,
stressed concrete pressed to duty stifles grass,
stalkers prowl then growl before last gasp
in shadowland where hands skeletal grasp
polluted air ~ there scarecrow trees once dared to ask
panhandlers if anonymous at last
could lift oblivion from who through life wear mask
protective as lost innocence pities our pretty pass...

Walls, eyesore scabs, once whitewashed, bright, now drab,
concretely stand, discarded, sharded, glass
peppered with papered-over panes, rehab,
pained, anguished shivers pass.

Asphalt jungle man_grove swamps, distress,
churches empty, congregations caught
between high rise, high rents, high stress,
low income, low hopes, lower scope: crack fought
for pitch upon cracked sidewalk sorrow paved.

Murder, commonplace, with crime express
delivery on contract. Safety's sought
with kith and kin who oft oppose, oppress
all but the favorite son when tale is told.
Few ease the pain when fortunes wane to nought,
and blood-stains bury memory's distress,
grave isolation caving in bright thought.

Once, there, some say, experimental lab
tested theories ‘fresh' for some sad mass
condo construction programs billed to last.
Shifty shadows harrow, narrow, grab
delinquency's sad h[a]unting ground alas!
overstretched societal elastoplast.

[...] Read more

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Greek #3

Some notes on how to pronounce certain things:
I, ei, y = pronounced like ee or ea, e.g., feel, read, etc.
Ou= pronounced like oo, e.g., fool
Mono dyo tragoudia eho kai trito molis vgei
De ksero pou vrika to ptoma mia kai tote itan ekei
Tora periplanomai ston tafo tis mousikis
Gia ta dyo tragoudia kai to trito molis vgei
Enas plousios mou eipe fere kota kai zoumi
Ftohopaido mou eipe pos de mporei na pei
Kai tora perimeno san kota to theo epi ti ghi
Mono dyo tragoudia eho kai trito molis vgei
De ksero pou vrika to ptoma mia kai tote itan ekei
Tora periplanomai ston tafo tis mousikis
Gia ta dyo tragoudia kai to trito molis vgei
Piga sto lefko iko kai rotao ton pyravlo
An pote den eixe complex I kati san afto
Ma arxise na paramilaei sa na itan stin tv
Den exo mono dyo tragoudia
Apo mena thelis ti?
Kainouri agorasa stena blue jeans
Kai ena baglama
Kai eipa stis kyries na mou ferthoun evgenika
Gia na min exo typseis pos den pao makria
Gia ta dyo tragoudia kai to trito molis vgei
Heres a direct retranslation of greek#3 from greek back to english. some people thought itd be fun to read. the english of course is not correct, but I translated it literally. in greek too, s
Hings sound weird. like, the expression with the chicken and juice. never heard it before!
I just have two songs and a third one when it comes out*
I dont know where I found the body** since then it was there
Now Im wandering around musics grave
For the two songs and the third one when it comes out
A rich guy told me bring a chicken and juice (!)
A poor guy told me that he cant tell
And now Im waiting like a chicken for God on earth
I just have two songs and a third one when it comes out
I dont know where I found the body since it was there then
Now Im wandering around musics grave
For the two songs and the third one when it comes out
I went to the white house and asked the rocket (!)
If he ever had a complex or something of the sort
But he started babbling like he as on tv
I dont have just two songs
What do you want from me?
I bought some new, tight bluejeans
And a baglama***
And I told the ladies to be nice to me
So that I wont feel guilty for not going far
For the two songs and the third one when it comes out
* literally as soon as but it would be too long
** literally dead body, cadaver
*** a very tiny traditional greek guitar-like instrument, a tiny bouzouki

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We've Heard It All Before

Einstein, he said, nothings original
Find something new, That's easy for him to say
Took his whole life explaining his theory
Try squeezing your life into 3 minute songs like
"My love, your face is a symphony
You play the strings of my heart
Say that we never shall part
If you say goodbye, then I'll surely die without you"
Oh, we've heard it all before
Oh, we've heard it all before
Don't wanna hear it anymore
We've heard it, we've heard it (oy)
We've heard it, we've heard it (oy)
We've heard it, we've heard it (oy)
We've heard it, we've heard it (oy)
We've come a long way from mono to stereo
Mozart would freak at the crap on the radio
Hits all produced by computer technology
Stick it in one end, it comes out the other
"My love, your face is a symphony
You play the strings of my heart
Say that we never shall part
If you say goodbye, then I'll surely die without you"
Oh, we've heard it all before
Oh, we've heard it all before
Don't wanna hear it anymore
We've heard it, we've heard it (oy)
We've heard it, we've heard it (oy)
We've heard it, we've heard it (oy)
We've heard it, we've heard it (oy)
You plug us in and we regurgitate the hits
Bombard your senses with sound of microchips
Program it digitally into the top five
Brainwash your ears, is it tape or is it live?
Live, live, live, live, live, live, live, live, live
Oh, we've heard it all before, we've heard it, we've heard it
Oh, we've heard it all before, we've heard it, we've heard it
Don't wanna hear it anymore, we've heard it, we've heard it
Oh, we've heard it all before, we've heard it, we've heard it
Oh

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Catatonic

Karl Ludwig Kahlbaum

In 1874, Karl Ludwig sat
Staring at his cat
Wondering what scientific discovery
Yet awaited his uncovery.

Seems all the great and renown
Had already placed their markers down
And there was little to be found
In plowing the psychic's hallowed ground.

Came first Aristotle
And others of lesser mettle
Who professed to understand
What was 'melancholy' of man.

Burton in his tome did write
Long and wide
Of the essence of melancholy
and its folly.

In his poem about pain and pleasure
He took far flung measure
Of what it constitutes
And how the mind pollutes.

Then along came Darwin (not the elder)
Who attempted to attribute to love and hunger
The forces of melancholy's strains
That caused to patients their many pains.

Freud, who read Darwin,
Claimed his bit of fame
Expanding on Sex
As it did man, perplex.

Kahlbaum thought it best to let be
What the 'Alienest' could not see.
So, in his records, Kahlbaum did note
Much about his cat, he wrote.

For ‘twas described by Karl Ludwig Kahlbaum
A state experienced by some.
And surely the lay public would know quite well
The nature of the cat and how it did dwell.

Stupor is called by some, 'catalepsy'
Which is nothing more or less
Than the state of mind with which the cat is blessed

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Kahlbaum

Catatonic

(In memory of Karl Ludwig Kahlbaum)

Ludwig had a cat, whose name was simply, 'Cat.'
That did mostly what
A cat does best
That is, spending most of his time at rest.

But the good doctor
Who studied man's behavior
Spoke often to his cat
About the workings of the mind, and this and that.

So in 1874, Karl Ludwig sat
Staring at his cat
Wondering what scientific discovery
Yet awaited his uncovery.

Seems all the great and renown
Had already placed their markers down
And there was little to be found
In plowing the psychic's hallowed ground.

Came first Aristotle
And others of lesser mettle
Who professed to understand
What was 'melancholy' of man.

Burton in his tome did write
Long and wide
Of the essence of melancholy
and its folly.

In his poem about pain and pleasure
He took far flung measure
Of what it constitutes
And how the mind pollutes.

Then along came Darwin (not the elder)
Who attempted to attribute to love and hunger
The forces of melancholy's strains
That caused to patients their many pains.

Freud, who read Darwin,
Claimed his bit of fame
Expanding on Sex
As it did man, perplex.

Kahlbaum thought it best to let be

[...] Read more

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Byron

The Bride of Abydos

"Had we never loved so kindly,
Had we never loved so blindly,
Never met or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted." — Burns

TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD HOLLAND,
THIS TALE IS INSCRIBED,
WITH EVERY SENTIMENT OF REGARD AND RESPECT,
BY HIS GRATEFULLY OBLIGED AND SINCERE FRIEND,

BYRON.

THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS

CANTO THE FIRST.

I.

Know ye the land where cypress and myrtle
Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime,
Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,
Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime?
Know ye the land of the cedar and vine,
Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine;
Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd with perfume,
Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gúl in her bloom; [1]
Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit,
And the voice of the nightingale never is mute;
Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky,
In colour though varied, in beauty may vie,
And the purple of Ocean is deepest in dye;
Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine,
And all, save the spirit of man, is divine?
'Tis the clime of the East; 'tis the land of the Sun —
Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done? [2]
Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell
Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell.

II.

Begirt with many a gallant slave,
Apparell'd as becomes the brave,
Awaiting each his lord's behest
To guide his steps, or guard his rest,

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Tamar

I
A night the half-moon was like a dancing-girl,
No, like a drunkard's last half-dollar
Shoved on the polished bar of the eastern hill-range,
Young Cauldwell rode his pony along the sea-cliff;
When she stopped, spurred; when she trembled, drove
The teeth of the little jagged wheels so deep
They tasted blood; the mare with four slim hooves
On a foot of ground pivoted like a top,
Jumped from the crumble of sod, went down, caught, slipped;
Then, the quick frenzy finished, stiffening herself
Slid with her drunken rider down the ledges,
Shot from sheer rock and broke
Her life out on the rounded tidal boulders.

The night you know accepted with no show of emotion the little
accident; grave Orion
Moved northwest from the naked shore, the moon moved to
meridian, the slow pulse of the ocean
Beat, the slow tide came in across the slippery stones; it drowned
the dead mare's muzzle and sluggishly
Felt for the rider; Cauldwell’s sleepy soul came back from the
blind course curious to know
What sea-cold fingers tapped the walls of its deserted ruin.
Pain, pain and faintness, crushing
Weights, and a vain desire to vomit, and soon again
die icy fingers, they had crept over the loose hand and lay in the
hair now. He rolled sidewise
Against mountains of weight and for another half-hour lay still.
With a gush of liquid noises
The wave covered him head and all, his body
Crawled without consciousness and like a creature with no bones,
a seaworm, lifted its face
Above the sea-wrack of a stone; then a white twilight grew about
the moon, and above
The ancient water, the everlasting repetition of the dawn. You
shipwrecked horseman
So many and still so many and now for you the last. But when it
grew daylight
He grew quite conscious; broken ends of bone ground on each
other among the working fibers
While by half-inches he was drawing himself out of the seawrack
up to sandy granite,
Out of the tide's path. Where the thin ledge tailed into flat cliff
he fell asleep. . . .
Far seaward
The daylight moon hung like a slip of cloud against the horizon.
The tide was ebbing
From the dead horse and the black belt of sea-growth. Cauldwell
seemed to have felt her crying beside him,

[...] Read more

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Golfre, Gothic Swiss Tale

I.

Where freezing wastes of dazzl'ing Snow
O'er LEMAN'S Lake rose, tow'ring;
The BARON GOLFRE'S Castle strong
Was seen, the silv'ry peaks among,
With ramparts, darkly low'ring!--

Tall Battlements of flint, uprose,
Long shadowing down the valley,
A grove of sombre Pine, antique,
Amid the white expanse would break,
In many a gloomy alley.

A strong portcullis entrance show'd,
With ivy brown hung over;
And stagnate the green moat was found,
Whene'er the Trav'ller wander'd round,
Or moon-enamour'd Lover.

Within the spacious Courts were seen
A thousand gothic fancies;
Of banners, trophies, armour bright,
Of shields, thick batter'd in the fight,
And interwoven lances.

The BARON GOLFRE long had been
To solitude devoted;
And oft, in pray'r would pass the night
'Till day's vermillion stream of light
Along the blue hill floated.

And yet, his pray'r was little mark'd
With pure and calm devotion;
For oft, upon the pavement bare,
He'd dash his limbs and rend his hair
With terrible emotion!

And sometimes he, at midnight hour
Would howl, like wolves, wide-prowling;
And pale, the lamps would glimmer round--
And deep, the self-mov'd bell would sound
A knell prophetic, tolling!

For, in the Hall, three lamps were seen,
That quiver'd dim;--and near them
A bell rope hung, that from the Tow'r
Three knells would toll, at midnight's hour,
Startl'ing the soul to hear them!

[...] Read more

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Henry Poole Is Here

Cast: Luke Wilson, Radha Mitchell, Adriana Barraza, George Lopez, Cheryl Hines

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Wild Horses

Cast: Devon Abner, Adriana Barraza, Angie Cepeda, Robert Duvall, James Franco, Gerry Garcia, Josh Hartnett, Joaquin Jackson

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You Again

Cast: Kristen Bell, Jamie Lee Curtis, Odette Yustman, Sigourney Weaver, Betty White, Kristin Chenoweth

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You Again [Aunt Mona]

Cast: Kristen Bell, Jamie Lee Curtis, Sigourney Weaver, Odette Yustman, Victor Garber

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