Explore "The Dead" by Mina Loy on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
We have flowed out of ourselves / Beginning on the outside / That shrivable skin / Where you leave off / Of infinite elastic / Walking the ceiling / Our eyelashes polish stars / Curled close in the youngest corpuscle / Of a descendant / We spit up our passions in our grand-dams / Fixing the extension of your reactions / Our shadow lengthens / In your fear / You are so old / Born in our immortality / Stuck fast as Life / In one impalpable / Omniprevalent Dimension / We are turned inside out / Your cities lie digesting in our stomachs / Street lights footle in our ocular darkness / Having swallowed your irate hungers / Satisfied before bread-breaking / To your dissolution / We splinter into Wholes / Stirring the remorses of your tomorrow / Among the refuse of your unborn centuries / In our busy ashbins / Stink the melodies / Of your / So easily reducible / Adolescences / Our tissue is of that which escapes you / Birth-Breaths and orgasms / The shattering tremor of the static / The far-shore of an instant / The unsurpassable openness of the circle / Legerdemain of God / Only in the segregated angles of Lunatic Asylums / Do those who have strained to exceeding themselves / Break on our edgeless contours / The mouthed echoes of what / Has exuded to our companionship / Is horrible to the ear / Of the half that is left inside them.