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We always had hallowed our muscles -
to make them, fashion them. Raise steel to men alone with barbel. It rides on hands, naturally, but not. Now we but see the regimen, exhausting our view. Prance about steel, guarding machines, trials, pressure, silence in force. To the ceiling it flies, or less, and less to wear, we stock for taking biceps for increments, records to keep. Retrieve in silence, close to spartan beds they bellow, it lies, practicing force and steel. Closing in on upper bodies, another day to wake this tendon or that - supplied with renegades harboring steel another day. © 2013 Larry Ingram
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Yes, wash eyes, limbs, but for another
style of living, I would have known hot water or cold is best for splashing about tubs of determined detergents. They were calm, these detergents - now mixing transgressions, dry becomes soaking, becomes spinning classes - cancelled for lack of dirt, mud or else. It works to the advantage of machines driving out grime, throwing arms in treacherous mimic - it knows by mnemonic device the order of water, water and spin. A circle, so perfect a chair for laundry piling high to human speed, wearing down clothes, wearing and discarding to remedy - it takes another skewer to close and ignore mountains of water. They come at a rush, they in precise falls, mixing, raining inches we go and see how clever it fills to degree, to makeshift flood - and filling, to drain to the sea. Still deep, it slices to none but feathers, delicate waves, but the tidal pulls ashore waiting oddly, for humans, for clothing we once wore, we wash again. © 2013 Larry Ingram |
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