ARTHUR DIES, VOL. 3, by Olchar E. Lindsann
This is an epic poem of that eldritch troubling time, issuing from a vast swarming archaeology as it might have been. Discover a land in which history, legend, death, language, and the world itself are otherwise than even if we think it, where magic infuses, confuses the words that describe it, as if – where discontinuity even infects the grammar of another, a bleary consciousness of another, reality – drift-read upon the current scene of bloodshed, deceit, and the insistent gnarled hope and striven mourning for a better world: ARTHUR symbolized the dream to come, where meaning flows as music overpast; a dank vanished temporal slaughter swale (that of Albion, womb of Blake) where the spells of words became cemented never – where rhythmic abstraction and storytelling tangle in mutabilitous dance: shamanic trance-speech, a fantasy uttered from within: for such is Arthur’s dream – Jack A. Withers Smote
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Vols. 1 & 2 also available at
