ANDY JACKSONBORNE AWAY BY DISTANCEfrom Frankenstein by Mary Shelley*
cracked occupied by force the passage toward return You may give up your purpose but mine is assigned to me I often thought life breathed composing strength in being that burning of my own species the task of my returning fainter exhausted silence pressed my hand I this wonderful catastrophe the remains of words gigantic in stature yet uncouth and distorted in proportions extended the approach toward I loathsome yet this pause turning toward this tremendous being I attempt to speak but the words die away on my lips At length I gather resolution diabolical vengeance to dream groans of love and sympathy accumulated impulse You throw a torch into a pile of buildings and sit among the ruins I hope to meet with unfolding believe the creature sublime and transcendent I am alone You hate me but your abhorrence cannot equal instrument the series of my being that which must be ice raft extremity ashes this frame He is dead who called me into being light feeling and sense this world the rustling of leaves and the warbling of the birds torn by extinction But I shall feel the light the winds borne away by distance
*(Editor's note: Andy Jackson's poem is an example of an ersure poem. For more on erssure poems see Laurie Clements Lambeth's essay click view)
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