There's an attic where children are playing
Where I've got to lie down with you soon
In a dream of Hungarian lanterns
In the mist of some sweet afternoon
And I'll see what you've chained to your sorrow,
all your sheep and your lilies of snow --
Ay, ay ay ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz
with its ‘I'll never forget you, you know!’
(Leonard Cohen after Lorca)
Desire, when written in the early morning dust of a suburban squat is a sweat-driven afterthought, filled with the stench of stale coffee and cigarettes. Write it in ink and it may be legally binding. Write it in dust and it will be blown away on the wings of a curse. These may be shallow waters yet we chase these Lorca/Cohen-esque visions of attic bound lust as if they are our life blood. Desire tastes best under a thin sliver of dust. It implies a narrative filled with lust, love, limpness and loss. Little death and a big dearth; It’s more than the individual; there’s a societal longing in the dust of ages, be it through ignorance, nostalgia, hopelessness or even recreation. There’s a hunger to destroy a present that doesn’t fit. And a future that won’t. There’s a past that excuses, a path that justifies. Filled with Desire and Dust.
Abridged, the poetry/art magazine is looking for submissions for its Desire and Dust issue. A maximum of 3 poems may be submitted of any length. Art can be up to A4 size and can be in any media. It should be at least 300 dpi.
Submissions can be emailed to abridged@ymail.com or posted to: Abridged c/o The Verbal Arts Centre, Stable Lane and Mall Wall, Bishop Street Within, Derry BT48 6PU.
Deadline: 8th September
you can stand all night at a red light anywhere in town hailing maries left and right but none of them slow down
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