November 3, 2020
Can you see it? Here. There. Everywhere. It tickles as it lives. Can you feel it? Will you feel it? A big question. Some might gather grist to call it a sham, a lie, an illusion of convenience. We can put it on the shelf. We can forget to wind it. We can push it away. Turn off the light, pretend it's not on the wall or desk or arm or mind. Rend rough accoutrements of clocks; dash their gears, grind them into shiny rubble. All gone, you think. Think again, if thinking again is a realistic option you fondle.