NOT HERE TO
CIRCUMVENT
THE TIME
Pippin and Pit were naming things;
others had names given to them. Between
the two, there was no difference at all. The
great wind blew - slapping the doorway
open and shut, banging things ungraciously.
I stood by the produce bags : burlap
sacks of beans and peas.
-
Dockside infusions of imports and grime -
men speaking funny tongues, women talking
in rhyme. A vestibule of Hell's own
something; that's what it felt like to me.
-
Water was in bottles from Perth, at least
that's what it said. I wanted to believe nothing,
I wanted to run or be dead. You know how
it sometimes is with nightmares : things
swallow you up just as you start
getting out, and then they
swallow you up again.
No comments:
Post a Comment