14: The Banner Saga (Stoic Studio)
go figure, we are numbers, the starveling woodland
in its twig-legged hope
that an arrow could
oh, how i wish an arrow could solve
us from deadweight to death-wielding, how a bow arm could
make us worth the last peal of the earth peeled out of the fields,
yet the earth must die in pieces, jagged as her obsidian glass.
god, can we just lie down in an Eyvind Earle giclée
and pretend it’s not on the verge of melting?