Saturday, June 25, 2011
A big hand never released the big men,
Their face relaxed, wrinkles deepening,
Gazing started and stopped for they were big.
During the night was a trough, and a crest,
Graphs of paper gripped us with mighty weather,
Eyes became alert, ears sensed the meanings,
Words took effect, and words were a pleasure,
Somebody with a line of graphical art
Should sway the earth and soil.
The head slammed as the big hand was released.