Some stories write themselves. Like this one.
There were no days, hours, minutes, or seconds
to count, to draw lines across this globe’s face with,
to make motorized machinery with strange faces and no mouths
to tell you how fast to go,
or how much of the day you’ve left to spend
like tired-eyed laborers with a pocket full of gold
and a gaping throat hungering for liquor. No years to
number your graying hairs with,
no decades to watch and count your children –
the ones that survived,
growing up like corn stalks until they gave forth their own fruit
and their ears blacked out the sun. No centuries Continue reading →