Food for Thought-Upon the Reading of Dylan Thomas Whilst Traveling from Ocracoke to Hatteras

Upon the Reading of Dylan Thomas Whilst Traveling from Ocracoke to Hatteras

Chalky days of grass covered sand,
Blown along this uneven strip of land,
Your abruptness takes my left hand,
As if to say,”would you, could you, perchance to see,”
A means to stand upon this ill-defined promontory with me,
While under the fig tree
On Howard street
The webs of mortal profundity
Are woven ever so cleanly,
Amid the dust, holes, and obsidian smelling rocks,
Where the small people hide,
Away from prying eyes,
Surrounded by living oak trees,
But never free,
Just below the meniscus,
Where they curse us for our cleanliness,
And because we are we.

–Richard Bryant

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