“Even now, these trees, these very vines, are ghosts. I should know. I live on the refuse. I and the flies and the rats and the other vermin that man so despises, hypocrite that he is. Who, if he had this garden to walk in, would give it up, would kill it? What kind of fiend?”
Clément shook his head, gazed up at the blinking fireflies and down at the stiff and claw-like fingers of the dead Malaysian’s hands. “If I had it, I would treasure it and worship it. I would never let it go.”
—From “Glow, Little Glow Worm,” between the DEAD LOVE covers. (more from this selection at a later date in “Chapters”)
As some of you know and others will discover, parts of Dead Love take place in Malaysia and Indonesia, land of the Indochinese, Malayan and Sumatran tigers. There are only around 3200 tigers left in the wild. The Bali, Caspian and Javan tiger subspecies have all become extinct. If you think that zombies and ghouls are evil, think on this: Man could trump all as the Prince of Darkness.
—Erin Orison, DEAD LOVE/The Daily Slice
Tiger Tiger. burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye.
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat.
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp.
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears
And watered heaven with their tears:
Did he smile His work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?
Tiger Tiger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?