Text:
Ice, Eden
by Ted Roland
Shit! The land is lost!
A moon is waxing, loosed
among the reeds;
that something soft and pink
like us is glowing, glossed
in burned out skin, frost-bite.
It sees! because it has sight!
Sight of the bright Hell-Earth!
The night. The night. The night. The night.
The burning from the eyechild's birth.
It sees! It sees! We see!
I see you seeing me!
...but the ice will resurrect herself
before this hour craps out.
after Paul Celan