Duskhouse to Duskhouse is a poetry prose collection that deals with nihilstic mysteries of the south experienced through childhood and family. The book follows the circular path of death from dusk to dusk where the ideal of home is shown to be always just out of reach. The book is an allegory without an allegory. The poems and prose sure do lead down lost roads, yet this lost in the nullification mystery of the Southern United States acts as a slow baptism upon the grotesque purgatorial account towards shamanistic healing. One deals with the Southern mythos in past present and future cataclysm like slowly drowning in a slow muddy river.
I finished this collection mid summer 2012. I consider this a companion piece to the much more fathoming of Anathema Blues.
A version of this book will be bookbinded in late summer through a good hearted and supportive medicine man in Maine. At least two different covers are proposed to be used. Below are two proposed cover illustrations as well as a few excerpts from the book.
Childhood at play among playmates (childhood passioN pLaY)
TheY were brave. Two boYs and the girl. Breakin sticks gainst tha hollowed dry rot petrifactions Oak tree. Kickin this solemn totem---
Hornets congealed out
The YoLK of dark spirits cavalcading out.
Someone is always someone else’s death.
Sunlight splashed upon the darkly shaded mule clod creek--cows moo moo and shit passively inside the sun drenched distance--cows shit out moos this hoT drY summer--Northwest, Georgia---sugar ValleY-----
Playtime is all the time and sure can taunT meaNess---and whO giTs tha meaN taunts and churls turns---goes all in passive order. And Is shaLt bE fair.
All three goT throwin rocks at tha creeK wheN old testament suffering tooK manifestation-----
---rocK stone smashes the head rooted to the 13 yeaR old body---
ShouTs of drenching bursting redness--ThE prettY 11 yeaR old scrawnY MarY scrawnY is fatly with sobbing droplets---hot red guilT
---thE boY feels a new experience of expenditure childhood fading is concocting --- childhood is a death inside imaginary pastures
He understands the sensation of the nervous system--He is poultry meaT disorganized violently from whaT once was a whole chicken independently alive--
Experiences and Expenditures
I left town---without any shoes---
I had hard cash wadded in my left pocket, though theY took my I.D.
So goes the going Upside the shadow like a mountain, not a hill--never a hill--never never a hill--
No one hears ya when ya shout down from a mountain, whilst the valleY lustres extravagant with mirth.
GREEN EMERALD growling FIRES INSIDE AQUA BLUE FIRES. IS this magic or violence?
Provoking a Confederate Roll call inside a volatile aura vile Yankee house will reap the fruits of the diabolical and biblical wraith.
In the torn faded green coat at the ruby door demanding the till toll. He must be on the payroll and official.
Tribulation made a petition and won favor
Permanence Echo Bells
The gashed darkness
Sticky and slicK with blood slick with blood slicken with blooood
Slick with bloooood
My 8 year old son drunk in thee cornstalks of oblivion-----Hot wind Hot whipping wind gainst and forth whirling twirling portents---whirly Gurley
Tha riff raff have arrived with rifles
Tha God damN Riff Raff have done arrived with rifles
Finger bone on tha trigger--eyes on tha hoG
He wears a coat made of shadows--Blood squared earth FEVERISh
We is ferried across
by the shroud---offering us to tragedy---
Clack Shackled with heavy iron chains goes the lone spirit into a deeper fathom
Oh Lord loneliness--- Lonely jusT goT LonesomE---
Solvency summer rains, ghost in kerosene rags finds the body-- drift deep ravine thicket briars brambles---Be wary friend--tha revenue man lurks!
Daughter on the forest edge--drawling wet pale growling-------
IN the shadow of what once was hillbilly Orpheus--now shattered by the long ago flapping thunderbird
Childhood was ruled by the spectral shadows of dogs--down dark green rolling hills
We were chased
We are chased over and over by each other---Where is Mary Mauldin now??
Dragging left leg limp inside the road, that bum---Variance carnage of fairy tales.
Alabaster yonder eve broke the innuendo---
That stranger walking tha road?
He is always fostering desperate obligations.
Something bout an honest way to live.