5532. AS IT IS

AS IT IS

I know nothing new of the abyss, and

it is all here with me  -  this final day

of a desired June now closing  -  I am

walking my dog through sepulchral times

in a silence to which no other word rhymes.

-

So then, that is all. Not a mouth engaged to 

talking, not an arm engaged to lift. Backwards

the letter reads better : 'sincerely, Janie' then 

starts it off; and June is reaching its end.

-

Ah, Tiverton once more! Its narrow, cobblestone 

streets are dreamt of amidst all of Devon's hills  -  the

streets meander along the contours of the land. I will go

sit at Collipriest House, a large estate just out of town.. 

-

I know nothing, again, new of the abyss. Walking on,

as I am,with my dog, along a hedgerow in a pleasant

vision : not the famed and damned Norman Hedgerow 

of a D-day story. Beuzeville-au-Plain, do you see? 

The word is 'bocage'. It is insurmountable and dense,

tres dense, oui.  Yet all that is of another place.