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 |    10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind |
| my crown is wound tight, almost daily, the mainspring pried by forefinger and a thick thumb, trying to get a grip. sometimes, i go for days in the drawer, in the nightstand, eyes tight, mind in night. my crown could use a spin, manually, attuned by a dedicated one who knows tension, tiny coils and gears that don't need constant lubricating but a little love, to clasp a hairy wrist. 4.14.22 I could add to this, give deeper introspect. Just thinking about wrist watches, when I had one that needed to be manually wound. How I would forget, or not wear, or lose or not care about time. And then, when I got a beautiful watch with a battery, how it was crap, never kept time and again, I would misplace it, forget it, not care about time. And now, I have a phone, a tablet, a fitbit, all places to stare that digitally are wound to a world clock so I can never be late, and I still try not to look, or care about time, but definitely feel it's tiny springs and coils inside of me wanting to rust up, erode and push back the tides of this linear thing I live inside of. Or should this be the poem? and I should wear my glasses. that's another matter and yet the same. i'm not Bond with all these gadgets i could use to rescue myself when danger approaches. okay, still poetry. stop. |
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