Dec 2013

Empty hearted
Nothing pulling you one way or the other
Bone clock
At town square
Where the table is talking to the chair.

"The chair speaks at 12 o'clock!" the table calls.
The wind howls through the dusty streets
And the typewriter of the the town sends what the chair speaks.

"Hey . -.-- .," the chair speaks
"Where it divides you."
"Divide and multiply."
"Don't blink, for it thinks to nullify."

Doorknob is a beating heart
Bleeding sharp objects to the floor
Screws, razors, and knives bled to the floor.

Walk one way, on carpets.
In through the back door walks another
Ethereal form,
Soft outline.

He's a calculator puking formulas
Puking squirming formulas
With only two buttons
Divide and multiply.

"Life = add, subtract, divide, and multiply."
Understanding: simplified
But Hey . -.-- . seems to nullify.

Take a chunk out
No facial recognition
A piece of wire from the chin up through the nostril,
Oneself at the back door.

Threatening to sleep,
The couch sleeper
Chiefing at the end of the couch.

Craving, longing, slinking around,
Fingers as crooked as trees and wants,
Spines for legs and spines for arms.

A cough through the walls,
A cough through the walls.

Dish detergent surgeon,
Pieces floating in the water.
Water, a shower surfing on a person feeble in the shallows,

The selves (listen) twitch together and, in time, strike by the hour to
Hey . -.-- .

Written by
Joseph Ashley Eaton
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