.. and just as our way is flat across Dales and gulches, as though our train were a pencil Guided by a ruler held against a photomural of the Alps We both come to see distance as something unofficial And impersonal yet not without its curious justification .. Only the wait in stations is vague and Dimensionless, like oneself. How do they decide how much Time to spend in each? One begins to suspect there's no Rule or that it's applied haphazardly.
News is of New Zealand reconsidering the flag again, the famous uni- on jack in the canton, stars of that southern cross on the fly, out- lined white over blue.
For young people in wine there remain 2 paradises, and both of great linkage to the seas. I hear, a Prime Minister fav- ours a silver fern, on a black field. I don't see paradise, in obscure foliage, much less radiance. What is a country for, I often wonder, if not the fulfillment of the patience of its stars?