In the land of witches I watch gravid clouds drift down sea-lime hills. huge churches made of hand-worked shirting, ruff thatch--drift up-- neon tetras swim in and out of the walls. In that valley runs a river where maidens, too awkward to strip, splash and scream like monkeys. On the rich coast plumed gods of wisdom feast off forgotten memories, rotten mangoes among the leaves-- ignoring the barking dogs below.
Reason for writing:
My father was a foreign service officer and i spent more than half my childhood overseas. One day a friend of mine in Fells Point asked me why I never wrote about my childhood. Well, the question rattled around for a couple of years, and then I wrote this.
Birth sign: Gemini
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