AT HERMIT'S POND
Some gladiator kid was
cutting a tree. The old way,
with a hatchet, not even an
ax. I'm not sure that was right.
-
It's very deep and dark here,
in the middle of the starry night;
makes me feel like something
else is going on. Something
strange and distant; nothing
to be alarmed over, per se,
just to notice.
-
Like Pilgrims coming over the
ridge. Odd colonials, with fifes
and drums. Guys wearing rags
over bloodied wounds.
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