Keats on Holiday<\/b><\/p>\n
The smoke salt air taught me how to breathe,<\/p>\n
no more caustic stenches creeping in<\/p>\n
under the doorway.<\/p>\n
No more steam drains and gutters.<\/p>\n
I felt a tumor blooming black on my tongue,<\/p>\n
so I went to the ocean, warm depths, depths that speak clearly,<\/p>\n
fizzing, splashing, effervescent \u2013<\/p>\n
it\u2019s got to be good for something.<\/p>\n
Old people retire to the beach and<\/p>\n
soak their callouses and spend idle time<\/p>\n
building bird houses.<\/p>\n
Keats went to Italy to play in the sun<\/p>\n
when his handkerchiefs started showing blood and bile.<\/p>\n
Old people die, eventually.<\/p>\n
So did Keats.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cTake a holiday, relax! You\u2019ll feel better.\u201d<\/p>\n
The salt sea is washing up beer bottles<\/p>\n
and fat women rub their children with lotions and oils,<\/p>\n
while I think of Fanny Brawne<\/p>\n
and poor old Severn whispers<\/p>\n
soothingly in my ear.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Keats on Holiday The smoke salt air taught me how to breathe, no more caustic stenches creeping in under the doorway. No more steam drains and gutters. I felt a tumor blooming black on my tongue, so I went to the ocean, warm depths, depths that speak clearly, fizzing, splashing, effervescent \u2013 it\u2019s got to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":934,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-2203","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\n