He knew what stitched his time
together
held it bound and rolled inside
a dirty green rubberband
that used
to hold a newspaper thrown
at a house and missed
and laying on the grass in the front yard
lesions straining
finding their way in and weakening its elasticity
thinning it
newsprint stained and
made
cheaper and cheaper by every stretch or moment exposed to the sterile sun
he knew what tried his bindings
and fabric
as when he slept in his linen
bed before an open window and all that held at bay
those starved insects
their
intimate directives tattooed eons before on their ancestors larval
buttermilk-coloured
flesh its twining DNA
their numbers numbing generations too numerous ever to count or attest
wanting a piece of him
held at bay by the sheath and chasm
of a fragile manufactured screen
and like
manufactured
he
made his own joints and hinges sheaths and chasms and bent
impossibly
attempting to avoid those
who didnt understand they had their own fashionings
and why
and why
why wear a fashion not of their
own making or device
backfilling
holes they didnt dig
there was something to be said
for Knowing
and while it didnt make it any
easier or less fulminating
it was its fiery Spirit he enjoyed
and engendered
1355, Tuesday,
15 7. 14
