This magical slab of confessions and wonder has slept upon my shelves for over twenty years -
Only now do I feel ready to open these yellowed pages - the book smells of smoke and Autumn -
I can hear Powys' voice in the low ceilinged room -
His brother, Lleweyn, lived near West Chaldon, only a short drive away in the red Peugeot -
A shepherd once told Lleweyn that he'd soon be wearing a green coat -
On the second page of my foxed Picador, Powys says - It is a criminal blunder of our maturer years that we so tamely, and without frantic and habitual struggles to retain it, allow the ecstasy of the unbounded to slip out of our lives -
I shall throw apple logs on the fire whilst I push my way through mazy sentences -
Already I wonder how this magician knew my secrets -
The wind is shaking the pine trees as I write this - my heart is beating fast, quivering inside its cradle of thin bones -
13.33
November 13 2014
The Old School House
East Stoke
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