one of my favorite things in this sad diminished world are those shamanistic poems/epics/histories at the start of fantasy novels

us, long earsick.
Blind, we follow
rain slant, spray flick
to fields we do not know.

Night, float us.
Offshore wind, shout,
ask the sea
what’s lost, what’s left,
what horn sunk,
what crown adrift.

Where we are who knows
of kings who sup
while day fails? Who,
swinging his axe
to fell kings, guesses
where we go?

nice!

im always a little ashamed of my posts itt

that's actually a "real poem" by basil bunting

but it always gave me a heavy CONAN vibe

if you like that you might like: http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoem.do?poemId=7500

this is an awesome thread btw

brilliant thread title

love Bunting too :)

It too dislikes I: there it lays in the shadows bound
Writhing, confined, with perfect contempt for us, under the fiery soul of the world
in the nonplace, the wall against the real
It will never die, its face will never
see light, grimace undarkened
by desire for the ending