so i'm at work. and in honor of that, i'm posting the poem i wrote about bearings. (which is only infamous among small circles) sidenote: is it possible to be infamous among small circles or is that contradictory? (oh and for those of you who've never heard of the movie "stepford wives" it's an old creepy horror movie - see it sometime) anyway... here it is:
stepford spheres
27 march 2003
“write a poem about bearings,” he says. my mind
begins to spin. frictionless radii rolling along. inner race
outer race, circling about like an obsession.
chaper 12: bearing life. do they roll
along from club to club each night
while the other components are asleep?
do they dance -frictionless- spinning about
the floor, returning only when dawn breaks
to their load zones, axles, shafts.
motion inside motion. circumference against circumference.
do you suppose they feel oppressed? bound
as they are, forced to a standard of interchangeability,
forced to soundlessly carry the load of another.
do you suppose they ever long for solitude?
time to contemplate life as a sphere? no corners
to hide in, no tolerable rough edges, a stepford sphere.
No comments:
Post a Comment