Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Copa de Oro

Bradbury flew Icarus too close to the sun to snatch Yeats's golden apples the way they teach you to swim, sidestroke, pass the apple from the hand to the basket hanging by your pruned foot and then grab another, like swimming into firmament with no gills or heat shield. As if the Earth simply sneezes and woosh! there we go, expelled from the atmosphere for a moment to look back at her and exclaim. For a virus we are optimistic about finding another body.