wjsullivan.net
Overloading the Machine
Fever
the sun sets to the top
of the neighboring Motophoto
and good upper deck people
rejoice
a train whistle in my sink
grins with pride but no teeth
happy like a frat boy
with a blond and a dalmation
the time comes to check the swing
that grin won't last forever
pick up the whistle it's time to sing
a blues in the key of clever.
No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of
absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream.
Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness
within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more.
Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and
doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone
of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.
-- Shirley Jackson, "The Haunting of Hill House"
This page was last modified on 2011 December 20. "Fever" by John Sullivan is Copyright ©2003 - 2011, and licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.