The world is black
yet there is a blade of light not grass
daggering out through the cracked wooden door
whose source reveals
the Word Mechanic hard at work
in a windowless shed full of shelves
that are stacked and sagging
with perpetual piles of poems, short stories, and novels
unfit for general consumption
because their owners brought them to him broken, unworking,
and in need of some tinkering by a master craftsman...
(to be cont'd)
Don't be a mouse, be a lion
