NEW WYRM By Nathan Wainstein 1 I think of Beowulf. I think of that ruined man who built the barrow in the cliff. He saw that time had eaten man. That objects ruin. I think of the dragon. I think that the dragon of our age is diffusing itself through blank tunnels. The day will come when, immaterial, it rises screaming
2 out of the Internet. The Internet, like the old North, has depths and mountains, burnt-over lands, unknown objects, stark pointless structures with weird inscriptions. Maybe in a hundred years some specialists will find some long-hidden chamber entered through the shattered iris of a starlet.
3 Inside there will be formless statues. A junk-heap of strange