[ToC]

 

THE FLICKER OF (YOUR FACE TICKS LIKE) A CLOCK

Panika M. C. Dillon

punctuated brevity falls in the rhythm
of march / your tongue can write this for
you: write is better, write it batter / up

to now you've said, up to now / your legs
sweat & paper sticks / where sense ends
& action begins: at the end of your nose

or the end of instrument; tract or tractor / count
to sixty & burn everything that counts / your fingers:
see that they are there, that they are wholly

there / the pretty changes depending on who is
looking at you / breath so sour I could call it
sweet / you'll write it all down one day; you'll write it all          

down one day—the fire & wax of it / now stop
the second hand—the first hand is over (your eyes)

 

 

 

 

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This is part of a series of meditations on my generation which I refer to as generation shoot up yer school. Over the past couple decades, all of the major school shootings have been perpetrated by boys close to my age. Our subsequent disease of apathy, I believe, germinates from participating in events like the largest worldwide protest (2/15/03) and having no obvious impact. This piece investigates the implication of Richard Siken's statement "You are here. You are here. You're still right here." It's my annoyance with those who are all talk and no action