8623. NOT THE DARDENELLES

NOT THE DARDENELLES

Not those Dardenelles again, with

their freezers and their guns, the

corpses that rise at midnight and

the rest. This book flew open as

I sensed someone had died. The 

silence wrote me another chapter. 

What was being experienced  -  I 

wondered  -   on the 'other' side 

that is so effectively closed to 

our vision? Here, on this land, the

traffic was still running by, the 

lake still held its water, and me.

I looked out a window, as though

it was window 'in' to my own 

psyche, instead of out to the

world. Not those Dardenelles

once more!