RUDDERLESS IN
TORTURED WATERS
'The paint peels off your eyes
like Michigan glass.' I heard
that yes, from the front of the
room. One of those classes in
poetic absurdity. They were
reading my stuff back, to the
12 other people in the room -
and I began thinking like Jesus,
wondering, 'Hey, 12 disciples,
and him; that makes thirteen.
Was it unlucky then too?'
-
I remembered writing that
Michigan glass thing a month
or so back. It was just some
writerly stuff, and I'd never
been to Michigan at all.
What I had thought of
though was the ruination
of all those decrepit and
abandoned factories - auto
and metal fabrication, etc.
Now, it was all just falling
down, slowly, bit by bit as
the weathers and Winters
aged them but good.
-
So I just sat there and let
them read. These workshop
people need all the help
they can get.
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