inside the rusty bars of factory windows
within the cemented walls and boarded doors
a compound of gears all spinning away
a machine built to create one thing
the final product of importance and destruction
perfect in pattern, identical in shape
unchanging in production
the machine.
the deisgn.
the wheels.
the belt.
break it. break it. break it all.
wow. I enjoy your writing. Many of these poems are touching. Keep it up. We need that prophet-voice so much in our ho-hum world. if you haven't discovered him already, you may enjoy the writings of Wendel Berry.
ReplyDelete- Rachel at Stitched in Color