Аннотация: The Second Song of a Fellowcraft Printmaker.
Quis te, parve liber, quis te fratribus Subduxit reliquis dolo? - John Milton
Once in the thicket of proverbial mire, Among the reeds of metaphor and semiotic mud A single verse of clear, clandestine fire Lay hidden in the pool of verbal blood
It is not given to our adverse gender To partake in the mystery of birth To suffer through and finally to render The flesh from womb, like fire from the hearth
Ours truly is the world of dim reflection, Of shimmering homunculi in vials Of coils of reason looped in tired erection Of leads and slugs in neatly marching files.
A metaphoric birth of the hermetic life A glimpse of future in a tiny drop A dab of paint on my pallet knife A lame attempt at very first press job.
Note on the text: This little poem was written to adorn the page of the very first letterpressed work.