Tuesday, June 01, 2004
It’s intriguing the way the mind works, how it stores scraps of time and space. Linking the most unrelated experiences into one cogent singularity.
The recollection of Acres Wild, the Jethro Tull song, is inseparably linked to the dryness of Cream Cracker biscuits. First year of college…I used to listen to my Tull CD and prep for my engineering exams. And yes munch away on Cream Cracker biscuits.
And even today, when I hear the song, what immediately flashes to mind is “Cream Cracker Biscuits”. Strange little memory map!
"Acres Wild"
I'll make love to you in all good places
under black mountains in open spaces.
By deep brown rivers that slither darkly
through far marches where the blue hare races.
Come with me to the Winged Isle ---
northern father's western child.
Where the dance of ages is playing still
through far marches of acres wild.
I'll make love to you in narrow side streets
with shuttered windows, crumbling chimneys.
Come with me to the weary town ---
discos silent under tiles
that slide from roof-tops, scatter softly
on concrete marches of acres wild.
By red bricks pointed with cement fingers
Flaking damply from sagging shoulders.
Come with me to the Winged Isle ---
northern father's western child.
Where the dance of ages is playing still
through far marches of acres wild.
