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Molehills in the monk's graveyard, I mowed the grass in between stones, vide humiliatiónem meam et éripe me, quia legem tuam non sum oblítus, bell tolled from bell tower, Dom Peter humble walked across from cloister to tower, warm sunshine, clouds passed, sorrow for sin is indeed necessary, but it should not be an endless preoccupation Bernard said, I tongued her sweet flower arms outstretched like the Crucified, see my distress, rescue me, the mower hummed in the afternoon sun, sweat on brow, I wiped away, Gareth said the limits of language means the limits of our world quoting Wittgenstein,   the things that we love tell us what we are Thomas said, incense smell in the church after Mass, Latin on my tongue bittersweet, come my love enter me she said, None office before tea in the garth, I sipped tea and watched the monks gather around the trolley in the afternoon break, I have not forgotten you law but have gone beyond sometimes, George spoke of the cold of winter how it could break him down, I kissed her with passion like one about to drown.
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Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
AS ONE ABOUT TO DROWN 1971
Molehills in the monk's graveyard, I mowed the grass in between stones, vide humiliatiónem meam et éripe me, quia legem tuam non sum oblítus, bell tolled from bell tower, Dom Peter humble walked across from cloister to tower, warm sunshine, clouds passed, sorrow for sin is indeed necessary, but it should not be an endless preoccupation Bernard said, I tongued her sweet flower arms outstretched like the Crucified, see my distress, rescue me, the mower hummed in the afternoon sun, sweat on brow, I wiped away, Gareth said the limits of language means the limits of our world quoting Wittgenstein,   the things that we love tell us what we are Thomas said, incense smell in the church after Mass, Latin on my tongue bittersweet, come my love enter me she said, None office before tea in the garth, I sipped tea and watched the monks gather around the trolley in the afternoon break, I have not forgotten you law but have gone beyond sometimes, George spoke of the cold of winter how it could break him down, I kissed her with passion like one about to drown.
A YOUTH IN AN ABBEY IN 1971 HAUNTED BY A WOMAN
#woman#youth#abbey#monks#1971
TerryCollett
Written by
TerryCollett
78/M
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
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