your ghosts are welcome here: they are with you. there are no questions why, or how, or wherefore -- and you can nestle in, just over there... or over here, if that is where your heart's been. i asked you once if you'd felt everything: you said you always had, from early memory -- we laughed, that day: a taste of sweet-and-ginger, a holiday no calendar had showing. and when we left it off, the lakes were fuller, almost buckminster fuller, we might say -- but why we'd say it, no one really knows. word's gentle touch, a morning breeze that's blowing, across the lonely hills, and by the dome where clouds betray the fickleness of fortune, how randomly we just call someplace, "home"
What an interesting dwelling. I would love to know more about it if you have any details please!
That is a geodesic dome home, as popularized long ago by the “Buckminster Fuller” mentioned in the poem. There are not a lot of them left. Visit https://fullerdomehome.com/fuller-dome-home-carbondale-illinois.html to see one still standing in Illinois.
Thank you. I didn’t recognise it as such even though I have spent a considerable time in geodesic domes!
I love Geodesic Domes, ALMOST as much as I love a good Quonset Hut.
I love a geodesic dome ALMOST as much as I love a good Quonset Hut.
Such stability and so simple an idea.