14: The Banner Saga (Stoic Studio)


go figure, we are numbers, the starveling woodland

in its twig-legged hope

that an arrow could

solve anything.


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?