The road is ugly, pot holed and frost heaved
winding across a twisted plain and over
the mountains of surreal where long legged
carnivore noose stalk rhe tawny lion through
madras foliated thorn thickets. there the track
runs through river riven bedrock deep valleys
battling the ruling grades of the surreals.
the mountains quake and quiver under us
as we claw our way up hill and slip and skid
down again. out into the jumbled lands. jumble
of landscape wild and perverse perspectives
where parallel lines meet and things flow down
adjoining sides of the jumble rocks assaulting
our senses, confounding our pedestrian knowledge
of which way is up. we journey for three days
or thirty, through tartan needled Scotch pine
under tweedy skies until as last the surreals and
the jumbled lands, where up is debatable,
gave way to the certain river valley where
crossed we the constant river with a shout of”
WE MADE IT THROUGH!!
We made it through Mountain and valley
and jumble in between, past paisley bush
and tartan fen only to turn about and
leave this place where up is up. casting
certainty and sense aside to seek to
make it through, again,

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Another road show, as it were.  Please comment

john+