Article voiceover
Two spirits make the world: One called sleep, the other Fire, which is a word for Which we lack other Better blither choice, one That more might trace each vice As matter burns, sun is spun, Earth is still and so is time. Time is still because space, Earth is still because love, Burning is balanced on Mute remembrance of place, Which is all, as when as Test the burning coal is Held and then dispersed, as Ezekiel saw angel Do as told. When you hold The fire burns and hurts, which A girl from Amherst named Emily well knew. She Could take a book and call It hell, and then when held It was that, burned clear like A vice of place not yet Expelled for love of voice. Space unmade time, voice then Unmade place, and gave back To her what she called bliss. Bliss is blithe as lark's flight When circumferential Trace is marked as the heads Of the city people Were by the angels in The same book we mentioned — Hard blot, to say the ones Not to kill, while slaughtered The rest ordered angry Lord, only pure ones left. Emily could do all That, but in a word, but You don't meet people Like that often. If you Can stand the sleeping you Can still hear voices, love Faces — a more private Fire only singes. Best For when you're alone In the house, these blisses, She knew it well — burning Angels bring healing hell.
I LOVE hearing your readings. This is a brilliant addition.