Re: Turning

[kingtycoon]

Drag the words down & out like prisoners languishing inaccessible & trapped.

Rescue from realms of torpor- seize & rouse them fmake them wake – early thoughts conjured as from dreams words awake & form in rows & regiments - battalions of warrior words denuded of the day’s ordinary banalities.
Grumbled through halfhearted wheezy breaths the word on a page more thoughtful, committed, than the half considered gusts of wind & noise saying only: “I am here.” “I am alive.” Tautology of speech & the misanthrope stirred to sullen waking by these ill considered bouts of solipsism – of maleficent winds puffed through unsightly lips- uncharming faces.
This is a world but it is a tragically impoverished veneer tacked up over the depthy wells of consideration & experience- of unravelling histories & unexpected futures.
These are ticks of a clock – can’t be lost in seconds – but lost instead in what the clock means – the face covers the depth of unknowable matters – what is time & why measure it & how & what is all that has gone before & does it mean – by its existence that a future is guaranteed & certainly to come?
Mechanism is the face of living matter – the mind’s handle a touchable/tangible portion that rests comfortably in the hand.
What is a clock but a simple means of encountering the unfathomable what are words but a mechanism for grasping the indescribable.

Which is to say that by arbitrary means these things can be measured.
George Washington in the woods measures the continent in chains & notes the ranges in a book – George Washington looks out from a dollar & measures the world in prices & costs. George Washington in his eponymous city measuring the world in threats & citizens.
Here is the human face- the thorough identity given authority – the ruler, the measure, the name of an increment – stack them & stack them & know by relational/relative measures how long & far, and at what cost & at what cost.
Saying here is a man – a person a soul & conflating them all pretending.