axe

 in guessing that i'm actually an axe i have two questions: is my handle made of hickory or walnut or some other prized hardwood and, and - by whom was i last sharpened? were they tall? dark, handsome? and if so did they move across the threshold to ring in the new year? and if so was the lucky lady bright, by which i mean lovely to look at and with eyes sort of sparkling like champagne not just intelligent? and if so i also have to ask *were* they indeed bright in the latter sense too, also? and where did they study? and what did they write about when they studied? and of course what pen did they use, or did they use a word processor? and were they okay throughout the process and not prone to the occasional mental breakdown which i would assume would have been attended to by a doctor given their poor bright lovely state? and did that doctor understand - as i can now, stuck in this decapitated pine stump with a face full of bugs - that such a breakdown is just a blip, treatable, arguably a boon in some ways like how a well healed scar can give a face character so too can this state of mental emergency give this bright young thing a yard stick? and did they ever use a yard stick in their research? the doctor, i mean. and where was that measured from and to? and examining what? and slicing open who exactly? and was the who tall too? and did they also cross the threshold - maybe not this new years passed of course but the one before? and what happened? how did they end up enslabbed and coldly preserved? and was their end at the hands of god or some other? - t

Joy Cometh with the Morning

 

When the mariner, sailing over tropic seas, looks for relief from his weary watch, he turns his eyes toward the southern cross, burning luridly above the tempest-vexed ocean. As the midnight approaches, the southern cross begins to bend, the whirling worlds change their places, and with starry finger-points the Almighty marks the passage of time upon the dial of the universe, and though no bell may beat the glad tidings, the lookout knows that the midnight is passing and that relief and rest are close at hand. Let the people everywhere take heart of hope, for the cross is bending, the midnight is passing, and joy cometh with the morning. - Eugene Debs, upon being convicted of violating the sedition act, September 18, 1918