Showing posts with label Hill House. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hill House. Show all posts

18 September 2016

Poem-A-Day #202 : The Moirai

The Moirai

          - the taxi will ask again - the answer will be the same
there is not destination -

                                                  - the drawing lots is done
all left is the manner of cutting -
          the implements wrap neatly
          in butcher paper
          and polished so tightly

Poem-A-Day #201 : Eleanor

Eleanor

At 32 who could see the shower of stones
the calcification of small guilts

The universe inside becoming one millimeter smaller

I have been spending my life waiting for a house
to open its doors and eat me until my molecules separate

The fantastic reproaches both small and gigantic

What if you flip cards over and I guess them all right
the  windows wouldn't shatter - that will come later

Or not at all

At 32 the hall of portraits of faces that are known
becomes a hall of empty frames

It constricts like an eye in the bright light of day

Youth is binge and age is purge
it is the sound of air sucking into long locked rooms

16 September 2016

Poem-A-Day #200: House

This is a new experiment. I don't know how long it will go. These poems will be about Hill House and what occurred there.


House

Our eyes speak to the air - whisper about the world - they collude
to fuzz the surroundings - to tell a sort of truth where there is none

At rest they speak in tongues - both the air and our eyes
the air resting becomes a mist or fog that rolls and obscures
makes the going rough over the fields

Houses conspire in other ways - places become steadfast - safe
until they are places all the lines cross - they are fact and sanity

But the ways the outer walls lean in to each other - they give away
they crutch of reality - that is bends itself over the lenses of air and eye
that these permanences are only one kick to the knee away from collapse

No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely
under conditions both absolute and real - eyes and air and houses

Our eyes convince us we can be safe as houses - sane as them
but these safe houses have never rested - they are not sane


Ettington Park, Warwickshire, England
The "Hill House" of 1963's The Haunting