The Hour of Creation


Sea Turtle Beached Since the Dreamtime at San Josef

I followed the rains back down to salt water, and stood in this old story at low tide, and knew the purpose of words. We are telling the story of the world. As Ezra Pound said of the love for his daughter that kept him in Italy during the Second World War: the rest is dross. We need to get together to tell this story. Now that so much of it has been forgotten, we might have to start mapping it up piece by piece, but this time not with maps of rivers, plateaus, and trade routes, but maps of story. What a great way for books to return to the world after long journey.


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