Hail the greasy automatons, hide each circuit
of hunger
traced on linoleum--hide toward dishwater and
marinara
and back under the radiator.hide A commute from
airless blind
walls to a sunfreehide circumambulation of the
sink.
Nothing is left unsaid-- hidenothing is said at
all;
To know nothing is to makehide true ignorance
impossible
because to be unable to acquirehide makes
acquisition meaningless.
But still, my mind turns back hideagainst my will
to how you can't quite kill themhide all off
neatly because
my whole mind turns like hideten thousand roaches
hundreds and hundreds of times hideevery day and
when I'm finished
telling you this, as I amhide telling you this
automatic tale,
nothing will have been wastedhide because nothing is ever used.
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© 1991 by Patrick Martin
Originally appeared in The Paris Review.
© by Patrick Martin. All rights reserved. No duplication in any print or electronic format is permitted without express permission from the author.