The afternoon grows scorchingly hot, and the worksite is consequently filled with grunting exclamations of poetry. For in this land, poetry replaces sweat as the sign of physical exertion. Listen to the man pounding nails!
“Someday the sky and the sea
Will be reconstructed by me”
And her driving the crane!
“sun
strikes
pane
shatters”
You wonder why no one writes it all down. To them, that is like asking you to collect your sweat in little buckets day after day. Listen:
“my inverted eyes
capture my mind
i’m so afraid
of what they might find”
Beautiful, in a way.
Nice phrases. I particularly like "inverted eyes" and "listen to the man pounding nails!"
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