To See Myself Reflected - Introduction

Trinidad. Tiny toboggan. A hill steeping swiftly downward crestfalling, faceforward, dodge-dashing. No rock can tumble to far from our course.

Once a burning incense, now a stream set drifting o’er to meet us by the way. Bring the bobcat, set the lion in its cage. Swing shut the gate. How graceful thy dance O’ everlonging. Take my breath away.

Another stone set. This place will be the death of me, he says. I can’t agree, though even now, and sometimes late at night, I do wonder. Swimmers might hold no bounds. The toxins quiver without sound. Next week due, more delays ahead. Copper and brass, no gold can buy. More iron worth stealing. A seeping cup.

Weather the withering tide. Since Tuesday last I was waiting for the storm to begin. Earnestly, essentials stocked, trader has a new business now. Heat striking water. Should we open up the windows and spare the rain our misery? At last none have taken. Fare far enough away is fair game. Gringing sheep. Sheer cliffs, Dover’s rot.

Then she wonders where he’s gone off to this time. No matter. Transfer. Next station, the tuner’s shot. Crippling my ears with gross decay of noise. Static onset and overturned. Outside the wind is shifting, North, they say. Chance to Ascend the Arbitrary. Entangle the intangible. Sheet slate, slick and stuttering so soft. A pitter-patter, steady yet hard. Boiling on the edge. There’s the spot. No, more left.

Ah ha, says the blind man to the moon.