METAL SPEAKS

This first poem arose out of a conversation concerning the changing role of mechanics, the trend towards the use of diagnostic computers and the consequent narrowing of human skill bases.

this time around he is a mechanic who cannot fix cars

who spends his days changing units as directed by the diagnostic computer

he has always worked with his hands

made the best bows in his tribe back on the wind scoured step

twice crafted watches in France

pewter chargers in Barcelona

metal speaks to him

steel iron bronze flint and stone as well

now he does as he is told

his eternal self wonders if that is the lesson of this life

As usual there is no title. I was drawn to the idea of an eternal soul gaining satisfaction from the act of creating objects with their hands.
Here is last post's poem revised.

Lisbon: 16.4.17

She shades her head

with the poly-pocketed paper

that proclaims her - tour guide

then

the

human

crocodile

pauses

turns

on

her

cue

to

take

in

the

view

and

with

a

collective

sigh

resumes

its

progress

down

          

         the

                steep

                         street

The hot and bothered tour group that inspired this poem as they wilted in the heat were climbing up the street but the poem works better on the page if they are descending.
There is a new Mountain Goats album due this month Goths. Here's a sneak preview.