Back in the mountains ,minus their apples,we made them into poems .The poems were about the white snows hurled at the old man’s white hair and the old woman who hurled the white snow was snow-white in hair and outlook. There was white everywhere about locked steel boxes , their chains in deepest snow rust. A pine or two rose behind the white steel box. There were white rabbits you had to pay a tenner for holding.
The poet was busy arranging the pines in neat snow rows. And the rocks he made them into rock consistency in their exactness that surprised older men in their white hair.
In the mountains , there you are set free. Mary, Mary , hold on tight said the old man as in The Waste Land (T.S.Eliot) and the old woman plummeted.
In the land of Oz there is a tin man who needed a heart.But he has a heart already behind his tin.When he cries at other peoples suffering his tears will rust his tin body making him entirely immobile. Better thing would be to make him a tin-pot dictator so that he will desist from crying for others and save himself from rust. Or he may be a humbug wizard of Oz.