There sat down, once, a thing on Henry’s heart só heavy, if he had a hundred years & more, & weeping, sleepless, in all them time Henry could not make good. Starts again always in Henry’s ears the little cough somewhere, an odour, a chime.
And there is another thing he has in mind like a grave Sienese face a thousand years would fail to blur the still profiled reproach of. Ghastly, with open eyes, he attends, blind. All the bells say: too late. This is not for tears; thinking.
But never did Henry, as he thought he did, end anyone and hacks her body up and hide the pieces, where they may be found. He knows: he went over everyone, & nobody’s missing. Often he reckons, in the dawn, them up. Nobody is ever missing.
It has been awhile since I last posted pictures of the 2011 flood. The water has left our house, but it is completely destroyed. My folks said they took lots of pictures, so as soon as I can get a hold of those I will post.
As of now, I do not know all the details, but I have heard that it has been an issue getting all the inspections, codes, permits, etc. for getting back into the house (or at least to begin the process of rebuilding).
Again, will posts pictures and update everyone as soon as I find out more information. If you have any questions or information, please post them in the comment section.
Like angels that have monster eyes, Over your bedside I shall rise, Gliding towards you silently Across night's black immensity. O darksome beauty, you shall swoon At kisses colder than the moon And fondlings like a snake's who coils Sinuous round the grave he soils.
When livid morning breaks apace, You shall find but an empty place, Cold until night, and bleak, and drear: As others do by tenderness, So would I rule your youthfulness By harsh immensities of fear.
— Trans. Jacques LeClercq, Flowers of Evil (Mt Vernon, NY: Peter Pauper Press, 1958)