knee in a land I choose to forget. [39] KINDLING As a matter of fact, ovens do carry a glazed stare, fireplaces are wont to parry thoughts to kindling before their stoop and on breathless summer nights one is hard pressed to recall cinder and blackened barleys any more vegetatively than upon these harridan pots. [42] THE GLOWWORM In slow sutures of pale white - dabbed in growing spume & mud dried earth, a glowworm is obliterated by warm, soft light coming up to elbow particles of near dappled clay that plants dissect, warm as feasts, aloft a muscat lawn. Pale, segmented tortoise - trite in area and jellied purpose, the glowworm oozes headlong through an aroused dark necking furiously with fungus turds and truffles rooted from the pig ground by mice sized swine holidaying on scents and mildew salvaged thru pores & nestling bowels of their planet sized turf. [43] BETWEEN TWO STONES They poured hot water into people's cups in which green tea leaves were floating like algae, or into red-painted spittoons placed on the floor which the travellers made frequent use of... It was strangely quiet. [44] THE WATERS OF THE BAY LIE BENEATH An abandoned house - dark salved to eclectic; crinkly, black pigment of old pine boards disparate to the elements. The waters of the bay lie beneath. A long slope trailing back of brush, garbles stones hoarse in the throat of a dust-flecked field are made more barren by the skunk cabbage weeds, the ugly, flotsam cloaks of horse hair to the neck - a hair shirt, coddling abrupt the barren pain tilled from empty soil. The summer's heat. Nameless insect waifs wavering, adjusting tumult to straighten the tight air about the outward door frame. Pinched in windows, glass in refugee lots billowing about urine paper; nails a ruddy pick dried to rusty blue, some dim shiny in their cropped disrepair. A road dry, rotating bare, nameless zigzagged only limestone in shelves meanders in throngs about stony debris, sometimes up to this beaten house. [45]
Prev.
Back
Top