A Glance Back
Some Little Notes
- The Third Collection, from Several Months Before the Tour -
According to the poems in that very battered journal, William’s story continued despite his death.
The gristle-sounds, fragments of me shoved aside
Are the final sounds to which I leave my life.
My corpse, like a poorly pinned butterfly
Of a carless collector, slides off its mount.
I look up to my grotesque conqueror,
His crooked jaws wide as he calls out in victory.
I feel blood and hate ebb out of me,
Both diminishing as they spread over the floor.
I see the priest of a demon staring at me,
He blurs and shifts, clarity becomes chaos.
Any fear I have of him fades as he now does.
My eyes dim and close around him.
When I open them again, I am surprised.
Death has a finality not easily ignored,
Yet I see again through vision blurred.
I see three of the one butchering my body.
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You can also buy the novel The Grand Tour, a story about William Bridgeman’s journey across Europe during the twilight of magic.