In the thin place between the word and the thing, at the wall's inside, old wires intertwine and cockroaches are the hieroglyphs of home. I take your hand in these last nights and wait beside the Styx on a green bank that runs to the wood, in the thin place between the word and the thing. And we stand all night gazing at the hard water and cannot see the other side. Still in the ward the neon obscures the hieroglyphs of home. We've come this far but are stubborn at the pier beside the boat's bob and the oars unused in the thin place between the word and the thing. And our breaths intertwine on the world's edge - I've stood inside the Newgrange tomb - like three coils that are the hieroglyphs of home. A speck on the near horizon! Charon comes but not tonight. And my fingers tell you I can't go past the thin place between the word and the thing, nor write the way for you, in the hieroglyphs of home.
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Cordite 30.0: Custom/Made
Released: July 2009
Guest Poetry Editor: joanne burns
Cover Image: David PraterCustom/Made was released in two parts. Custom contains poems selected by joanne burns. Made consists of remixes of these poems by the contributors.
“cockroaches are the hieroglyphs of home” is one of the most evocative phrases I've read for ages…how incredibly visual it is, how filmic…
this place between the word and das Ding, between text and void, between articulation and sublime occlusion (opening to the beyond); textual block / structural impossibility opens to shores beyond word and through bodies
thank you Anne
Fantastic, Anne, a delicate piece but so forceful at times.
I really like this line too!
'beside the boat's bob and the oars unused'
Dear w m, Mark and Ashley,
Thank you for your comments, much appreciated.