David Chorlton was born in Austria, grew up in rainy Manchester in England, and after spending most of the 1970s in Vienna he moved to Arizona. Since arriving in Phoenix he has pursued his writing, and been active in various capacities in the poetry world. The Bitter Oleander Press recently published his translations from the poetry of Austrian poet Christine Lavant as “Shatter the Bell in my Ear,” adding to collections his own original work over the years of small press activity. He does not complain about the heat, even at the height of summer, but does often register discontent at other circumstances, and come to believe in a balance of aesthetics and edge in art.
Opening the sachet, the recipient inhales the scent and studies the
picture on the label, of a crepuscular scene suggestive of a meeting place
for good and evil. She reaches out to steady herself, but there is nothing
to hold on to and she feels herself losing control, growing wings, letting
herself be taken by the air. There she goes, where she has never been
before and now she is a Bird of Paradise perched on the lintel with her
yellow crown and green throat sparkling, and her wings spread wide and
fluttering like all the dresses she ever threw away.
[image: Golden Gloom | Mario Sánchez Nevado]
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Reblogged this on reubenwoolley.