This is the second of three pieces that were born during the same one hour meditation session while on a retreat at Easter in the Herefordshire countryside. It was a productive hour that, maybe not in the intended fashion, but productive nonetheless.
This is the last one to be finally finished, though it becomes the second of them published here, and is in fact the middle piece of the three. The third I’ll be putting up at the weekend. In my mind the three pieces formed a loose trilogy of Gothic Americana, all death and redemption and retribution in a Cash like country music kinda way. That’s how I conceived them right from their first stirrings in the solitude. The first part, “83. Wreck of the old treble 6” was put up on this page a couple of months ago.
84. Won’t you break my bread with me. (14 June…
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