I finally had a chance to read one of the new Sirenia Digests from last month. It contained a new story, "Untitled 45", but Caitlin R. Kiernan that starts off with a wonderfully eerie and desolate sequence of descriptions. The unnamed narrator traverses a beach and contemplates a sinister forest nearby. The imagery is so interesting and carefully described it's impossible not to picture it.
Dialogue happens when a figure emerges from the forest and it becomes a rumination on the narrator's feelings of guilt, or lack of guilt, or guilt at not feeling guilty. This section also has striking imagery its psychological suggestions are lovely and grim.
Twitter Sonnet #1445
The citrus clouds obscured the creamy field.
The trees and fruit invoked the fancy land.
The carpenter constructs a sign to yield.
He said the beach was still too full of sand.
The tyre sand obscured the twisting car.
A sudden drink began a lakeless night.
A mighty leg traversed the jelly bar.
A frightened thought requests another light.
Relinquished streams invest the growing pond.
As light dissolves in dust we push the shade.
Of lower clouds the short are passing fond.
With endless green the sod is strictly paid.
A chance replaced the station near the rock.
A foot contorts the black and purple sock.
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