Doubt arises regarding the wisdom of naming an acupuncture clinic Thicket N’Thorn while featuring a picture of a cactus with especially wicked looking spines. So I waver between that and some other epithet more cliché or bland.
A lifelong fascination with figurative immediacy, however, tends to favor an elemental astonishment arising from riskier juxtapositions.
I also savor the music, the voiced TH dipthongs, the assonance, the intervening fricative, the vernacular contraction jamming together “and thorn” as it may be commonly spoken.
Acupuncture is much kinder than being speared by a cactus or snagged by a rose, although roses and many cactuses do have medicinal value. Likewise, this hazard does not detract from either the physical or symbolic elegance of such pointy plants.
Acupuncture is, nonetheless, a complex medicine long steeped in metaphorical resonance. As one of my acupuncture friends puts it, “acupuncture is the poetry of the body.”
Meanwhile, I hope the home page doesn’t scare anyone away, and I promise not to thrash anyone with a thistle!