BEING AT BREAKAWAY RIVER
And suddenly sleeping in caves for we've nowhere else
to go. Like Breugel's Village Wedding Feast, we are
crazed and busy with anticipation; all swollen, misshapen
people scurrying around. I see nothing pretty in any of that.
A swollen face is like a swollen loaf of bread. The face
with creases looks like the walking dead. And then the
lethal Magi arrive, showing up but to look like clowns,
old, strange fops from another, distant land. We are
landed, yes, living in caves, here at Breakaway River.
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