Wednesday, August 12, 2009

March: Year-day 67

March: Year-day 67 So, now, electricians/ swarm through the house, their antennae, live wires; their wings, hard wood; their nerve centers, transformers; and I, mouse, my gestures soft static, guess where I should escape to, but don't, knowing I must run the columns of figures as rapidly as circumstance allows as one and one and another employee assists me. Audit. Audit. No time to fret about small out-of-balances. No time to finish each day's report, imagine each day's sonnet, the early-morning / late-night crush of stout linemen more than enough to quite diminish my energy for the torn land's . . . beyond it. -

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