Miltonic Battles in Me Feverish Head

Last night, fifth night with a fever, as I lay down to try to get more sleep than I did the night before, the phrase "Glorious sleep" popped into my head. I closed my eyes and watched a battle of images Blake and Milton would have been in awe of: blunt dark-blue shapes pounding down, on dull, ground-down coals, which coughed up balls of fire as there only, futile defense. I don't know how long I watched this battle on the back of my eyelids. I woke this morning thinking that Blake just may have had a low-grade fever for decades.

Comments

[jared lien]

Your company is a missed company. We are like little English boys (and girls!) with little English sticks. We need stable adult stability... Our decade project is intresting... the only problem we are facing is the serious lack of classroom participation in discussion. Though thanks in part to our discussion gurus, Josh and Cody - with minor support roles from Sara - we avoided utter awkwardness. We are all convinced that you being back will make things smoother. Hope you feel better soon!

[suzanne]

there's something seductive about febrile imagery isn't there?*** and the lassitude of passing illness*** that state of fluctuate*** between feverish awake*** and restless sleep*** riding*** bare back*** on the night mare***