Heavy did I slumber in this sarcophagus
sonnet no. xlvi
This is my Easter poem, I suppose. I am not religious, but love religion for its tropes, symbols, aspects. It all seems to come first from the mind, and I can believe in the mind (it’s really the only thing we have going on). My friend and I have been musing about the Dionysian mysteries, which find their way into many Christian rites ( the Christmas tree, the consuming a deity, see James “May-He-Rot-In-Hell” Frazer ), but Easter reminds me most of burial rites and fertility rituals of the Osiris cult. In the 21st century I suppose there’s still an opportunity to explore these pagan sounds.
There’s been some interest in getting audio versions of these poems, and I’m trying it out from the Substack application. You can hear this poem read aloud, here:
