Few, crowded hands, sparse, though one
Though they are doomed, they have begun
To carve out of stone, to weave out of reeds
A simple machine, at a countable speed
Slow, like molasses, the start is the worst
The hands now press on, becoming the first
The wheel, it is heavy, the few stagger on
Though they couldn't conceive of what was beyond
Slow, ever faster, loss to a snail's pace
So how then does this machine win every race
How will it turn through the sleet and the fire?
How will it keep on and never get tired?
Hands start to fall, the first die young
Young hands placed anew, increasing the sum
They need never push the wheel from a stop
The wheel has momentum, gained from the hands dropped
So one becomes some, and some garner quick
Some hands start to ponder alternative tricks
One gets the Wheel next to a wandering brook
So the Wheel takes less hands than the Wheel had just took
But, then, Eureka! An idea is found
And so the wheel turns and the grains are then ground
Which then feeds the more hands, which push it some more
Through the plagues and the deaths and the famines and wars
And yes there are conquests and villages burning
But nevertheless the Wheel keeps on turning
Its mass too immense, it cannot stop now
The Wheel transports tools and new knowledge and cows
The hands, will they stop? Their mission complete?
Surely by now, they're made obsolete?
But with metals and foods and large rubber bands
The Wheel seems to cultivate much stronger hands
The Wheel defies all, the Wheel is divine
The saviour to death, it's curing the blind
The weak die not young, splendors seek them out
The Wheel keeps on spinning its wonders about
No hand now could stop it, a beautiful thing
The beauty unbound in a sphere or a ring
Though that ring has been carved, what was the deal?
Carved out of carvings carved out by the Wheel
The Wheel keeps on spinning, the hands, they push on
The Wheel aids in theatres and novels and songs
The Wheel never stops, never slows or plateaus
It accelerates by hand, just as ages ago
So when the mountain stands before you
Or when the sea seems vast and blue
Know the Wheel turns all the faster
To make a molehill of disaster
I reach through you and tear out your heart
I pull your veins till you fall apart
And as you are scrambled on the floor
I twist and knot till you unfurl more
I drag you back to meet my hands
You hang, you dangle, strand from strand
You're holding on with all your weight
I toss you away, then create
Bit by bit and stab by stab
I strangle, I knot and grab
Insides, outsides, insides, loop
Bit by bit, till carcass swoops
Chaos into order
As you're getting shorter
Yet my entanglement
From your tangled mess
Is getting finished
As you diminish
Into a few threads
To beauty instead
Almost complete
You're obsolete
As you are tied
To what's defined
Knot into knot
You cannot
Return to
Former you
Bundled
Huddled
Arranged
Estranged
I
Eye
Knots,
Lots
Sir or madam, come in, I implore
But I ask that you leave your coat by the door
It's ever so lovely, don't misunderstand,
But please let your sleeves slide down past your hands
Lapels full of pins, and medals galore
But it's dirty and worn, it's staining my floor
So while it is pretty, I simply must ask
That you abandon your coat right there on the rack
I know that outside, it only gets colder
In here you can feel a relief of your shoulders
It's warm in this hall, I swear there's no harm
In feeling the fabric slough off of your arms
How freeing it is, how nimble and light
Though you cling to the weight with all of your might
Relax for a moment, you're you and I'm me
We needn't the faux felted identity
Breathe as you shake off the cross that you bear
Cut by some scissors and sewn up with hair
Loose from the meanings of woman and man
Do what you couldn't, but now find you can
Farewell now my friend, my great, esteemed guest
Your coat has been given a much needed rest
Fault yourself not for donning it now
I do wish the weather would sometime allow
Jacket-less people, free from the hold
Of bitter and biting and violent cold
So return you return back to nameless bliss
I bid thee farewell, good Mr. or Ms.
The Three body problem will make one's mind unsound
So I'd much rather think of a noun and a noun
To see how eyes wrap 'round their friends and their peers
To watch fuzzy memories fuzzily appear
To see folks stand closely, apparently fond
And watch to see sparks of invisible bonds
Gone with the glass and in with the flesh
Icky and smelly and imperfect, yes,
Though I hope I'm lucky, I hope that I'm able
To join imperfections sat down at a table
I'll say nothing much, or nothing of note
And they will agree, as if I had spoke
Yes, that is where the name is devised
As this second person's where problems arise
You'll see it in others, quite plain with your eyes
But how can you see your invisible ties?
They say that you'll know it, though that is a miss
If we'd been aware, we shan't reminisce
And so if I were given just one little wish
I'd wish that I'd know it before it is missed
For about 2 weeks, I've not noticed a man
Behind all my curtains, beneath all my lamps
He sat, he stood, saw, and was never not seen
But this was a man with no concept of being
He lurked and he hid betwixt shadowy veils
He moved not a muscle, but slowly prevailed
Through cracks and crevices unknown to unkeen
But he was standing not there, he should have been seen
He walked plainly, he was so certain and not
As he got closer, I could feel myself rot
Growing so nearer, in mirrors and decay
He was astoundingly not, what else can't I say?
Bundled, packed, tidy, neat
Your visage defies your nature
For within that acutely defined package
Lies thread upon thread of unfurled chaos
Unfurled, expanded, messy, unbound
I see what it is that you are
Beyond tightly packed order, your nature
In clumps and piles I see you in all
Confusing, uncertain, unsure, unknown
You seem to be chaos but I know better
For indeed should I follow one end as it comes
I see what you are, in all you are one
Spooled, piled, deceptive, seen
I wrestle with your neatness, your unrest and your tricks
In my hands I twist you until I am done
In my repeating hands, I have made you make sense
Swimming the seas of the dark, calm stone
Is a downtrodden astronaut who hasn't atoned
For some sin, some disgrace, some flaw or a fault
So now they tread slowly in the tranquil basalt
Helmet burst open, suit caked and dusted
With a pale toxic ground, so their lungs are all busted
So as the Moon dies before its next, new exchange
That star sailor tumbles along the vast range
Dance to the seas of your own counterpart
As both you and your tenant will slowly depart
Frozen and vacuumed, a serenely stilled face
Looks over the craters next to the past base
Bask in the shimmer, you great nauta mortis
Swim the warm waters of mare frigoris
And though the far, dark side may be a sensation
Stay in our sightlines, account for libration
Oh Moon, ever dying, the corpse of old Theia
And corpse, ever living, cross lunar maria
A mind, cold and breathless, would quick be a loon
But you'll find no grey matter in this Zombie on the Moon