The history that won

Bulldog-faced clock: hock, hock.
Hacking out the time of its life.
Time and time again, the sour minutes
dripping in like blood cells.
Time and a half, a muzzling dollar
petting the mestizzo men in
thrallsome weariness. Lead them
down to the molten ground,
lead those gentlemen to the pound.
Feed them as an hour grows
until their heads glow around.

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~ by Jeremy on September 25, 2012.

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