<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The Letters<\/strong><\/p>\n I of language that can no longer hold them which lie there on the ground bleeding II and robes, with two tiny slits for your eyes because the letters went the wrong way III because even He couldn’t tell what he had to buy but the gods are gathered there up there like a cloud <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Ottilie Mulzet<\/strong> translates from Hungarian and Mongolian. She is currently completing a PhD on the subject of Mongolian riddles and proverbs. Her artwork, prose, and photography have appeared in the Prague-based journal Revolver Revue<\/em> since 2000.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Letters I Can you hear the leaves as they fall as they hit the ground with a thump the stomach, teeth, legs, and heads falling from the branches of language that can no longer hold them the curling loops undone in that Hell, the trees’ leaves sharp blades cutting mercilessly every Word […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4384","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4384","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4384"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4384\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4388,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4384\/revisions\/4388"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4384"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4384"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4384"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nCan you hear the leaves as they fall
\nas they hit the ground with a thump
\nthe stomach, teeth, legs, and heads
\nfalling from the branches<\/p>\n
\nthe curling loops undone
\nin that Hell, the trees’ leaves sharp blades
\ncutting mercilessly every Word<\/p>\n
\nthe severed legs, stomach, teeth and heads
\nthat when assembled looked so alive
\nthe Gods gathered above in the sky<\/p>\n
\nof the manuscript, gathered there
\nlike a storm, the same word repeated
\nburqan burqan burqan
\nGod covers you, wraps you all up in edicts<\/p>\n
\nand the words hanging down from the tree
\nlike the robes handed down by your mother
\nthe manuscript you could not read<\/p>\n
\nlike stakes driven into the ground
\nthe words lay there mute, already buried,
\npronounced dead, must be given funeral rites \u2014<\/p>\n
\neven more elaborate than for the highest priest
\nor maybe as nourishment for the fire
\nabove is God with his bamboo pen
\nwriting on cheap Russian paper<\/p>\n
\nwhen at the market, the paper made from rice,
\npaper is paper, He thought, and made His offer
\nthe world is not a sheet of paper<\/p>\n
\nlike a storm when it\u2019s said that their voice is heard
\nthe letters following to the ground
\nthe Wrath of the Lord raining down<\/p>\n