And I heard the sound
of a great engine pounding
in the air, and a voice asking:
"Change or slavery?
Hardship or slavery?"
and the voices answering:
"Slavery! Slavery!"
sometimes poetry weaves and slips and sometimes it requires a blunter approach. sometimes a hammer IS the tool for the job. to be a caricature of myself and add Siken to the mix: "...There's a dream in the
space between the hammer and the nail: the dream of
about-to-be-hit, which is a bad dream, but the nail will
take the hit if it gets to sleep inside the wood forever." it's a false sleep, though, isn't it? to be forgotten and loadbearing under constant strain. at least the great engine and its bleak options is honest.
And I heard the sound of a great engine pounding in the air, and a voice asking: "Change or slavery? Hardship or slavery?" and the voices answering: "Slavery! Slavery!"
sometimes poetry weaves and slips and sometimes it requires a blunter approach. sometimes a hammer IS the tool for the job. to be a caricature of myself and add Siken to the mix: "...There's a dream in the space between the hammer and the nail: the dream of about-to-be-hit, which is a bad dream, but the nail will take the hit if it gets to sleep inside the wood forever." it's a false sleep, though, isn't it? to be forgotten and loadbearing under constant strain. at least the great engine and its bleak options is honest.