Either you are sorting it out, or you are full of it.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

False Start #29

No sleep. No sleep. Not yet my boy, not yet.

Not as the idle knife grinders sharpen their teeth with anticipation.

Not as the weavers slacken their looms for cat’s-cradle games.

Not as the machinists play percussive troupe with hammers and widgets.

Not as the money-grinders malinger in bed, refusing to reckon sums.

No sleep. No sleep. Not until they sing.

Not until you give them a song.

posted by ferret at 11:29 pm  

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