Tuesday, November 17, 2015


You were watching TV; I saw you from the corner
of my eye, looking in. It was a quiz show with some
people trying to answer peculiar questions. I never
understood what they were trying to achieve. This
was the warehouse where I kept my heart, in the
district of industrial looms and workman's lathes.
It was a hundred years ago, in that respect, but I knew
it was really the most modern of days. I can get around.
I have a miraculous salve I'd like to rub all over you.
The man from the clock-chain factory was coming by 
to balance and wind this clock you kept upon the wall.
I said I'd wait for him, and here he was : toolcase and
a loop which he wore around his neck : 'what's a loop?'
I heard you ask. It's a magnifier, really, in a small and
swivel format  -  for jewelers and clockmakers and the
like. The man must have owned a gentle touch. 
Otherwise, this job could not be for him.
So, no my bearing is lost and I've exited all control.
I am flying kites backwards through skies made of
lead; I am knitting steel sweaters on a loom of sewing-
room blood; I bring new food to the condemned, who
must eat of me before they die; otherwise they'll
be further confined to the Hell of their choosing.
I have a miraculous salve I'd like to rub all over you.

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