MY MIND IS ON THE END
OF SOMEONE WINDING
I visited Bristol, and Beacon too. One day out, two days
afar - everything running where it may. There were all
those collected bottles, blue and green, the ones the old
chemist-elixirs came in : the rheumatoid and arthritic came
by, one case at a time, to plead their cures. Out in this
far country, beyond perplexing, is the only way we
understand. Each house seems two hundred years old
- that center corridor, running a breeze through two
open doors - a natural and God-given right to air and
coolness. The trees here sometimes look like monsters,
or dinosaurs even; huge, pre-historic things, rearing
up and staring back. I look at them with whimsy,
and little do I care, just gently smile back.
I visited Bristol, and Beacon too. One day out, two days
afar - everything running where it may. There were all
those collected bottles, blue and green, the ones the old
chemist-elixirs came in : the rheumatoid and arthritic came
by, one case at a time, to plead their cures. Out in this
far country, beyond perplexing, is the only way we
understand. Each house seems two hundred years old
- that center corridor, running a breeze through two
open doors - a natural and God-given right to air and
coolness. The trees here sometimes look like monsters,
or dinosaurs even; huge, pre-historic things, rearing
up and staring back. I look at them with whimsy,
and little do I care, just gently smile back.
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