The cog and the flywheel kiss the sweat from each other's necks.
a mode of seamless execution--
a moan of perfect function--
Function dances with decay.
They are the same child, a different name.
The kids don't hear the bed posts break paint from the walls.
a mode of silent creation--
a muffled pronouncement of functional ecstasy--
Function dances with sin.
They are the same child, a different mother.
Every clock is a rusted clock.
Every child is a different child.
The cog and the flywheel watch the sun come up.
0 comments:
Post a Comment