UNFREEZING THE
MALLEABLE MAN
He walks with a chisel in his
head, that old man bearing down on
death. Nothing can stop him now - those
ruins, those ruins you see were all his factories.
Piles of beautiful red brick, ringed by walls
with entrances for both trucks and employees.
The guardhouse, furrowed and lovely like
a brow, where each man checked in and
did his obsequious bows. Bossman. Owner.
Ruler. King. It's all a riddled rhyme, something
twisted around the circular tongue. Now at
his hole in the ground - we grasp together a
wrinkled bible, something with thin pages
and a gold-edged binding. Muttering prayers
that no one hears, muttering prayers
that no one hears.
MALLEABLE MAN
He walks with a chisel in his
head, that old man bearing down on
death. Nothing can stop him now - those
ruins, those ruins you see were all his factories.
Piles of beautiful red brick, ringed by walls
with entrances for both trucks and employees.
The guardhouse, furrowed and lovely like
a brow, where each man checked in and
did his obsequious bows. Bossman. Owner.
Ruler. King. It's all a riddled rhyme, something
twisted around the circular tongue. Now at
his hole in the ground - we grasp together a
wrinkled bible, something with thin pages
and a gold-edged binding. Muttering prayers
that no one hears, muttering prayers
that no one hears.
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