There are stalls to pack away,
planks, poles and awnings,
scored, tarnished and stained,
and a pile of newspapers, ripped,
crumpled gently round precious things
crated up again for traveling.It's all about what hands do:
a thumbnail evens up a fingernail -
in front of eyes that scrutinize,
resume jig-saw agendas
beyond a pondering mind...
YOU ARE READING
Bare Shouldered
Poetry"The difference of high Sensations with and without knowledge appears to me this - in the latter case we are falling continually ten thousand fathoms deep and being blown up again without wings and with all [the] horror of a bare shouldered Creature...