{"id":2147,"date":"2013-07-03T01:09:31","date_gmt":"2013-07-03T01:09:31","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/?page_id=2147"},"modified":"2013-07-03T01:09:31","modified_gmt":"2013-07-03T01:09:31","slug":"andrew-hein-713","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/andrew-hein-713\/","title":{"rendered":"Andrew Hein, July 2013"},"content":{"rendered":"

Summerset<\/strong><\/p>\n

I am fashioning a cog. By that I mean that I have taken an old cog; I am polishing it. I am \u2018fashioning\u2019 it\u2014shiny cogs are the new convention. I am shaving down wires and making new life. What does this machine do? It polishes cogs. I am refining and being refined. I am shaking to parts. I am oiling the cogs. This machine is lumbering toward the sea. There it will destroy itself, below the high cliffs, beside the cluster of white stucco houses: pebbles against its mass.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Bum camp<\/strong><\/p>\n

\n

I’m out for a jog;<\/p>\n

they’re living in a bum camp.<\/p>\n

\n

when I round the corner and start<\/p>\n

into the woods<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I remember it, cued by a comical<\/p>\n

trail of refuse–can of whipped<\/p>\n

\n

cream, dented fire extinguisher,<\/p>\n

then a pair of what used to be<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

pink socks<\/p>\n

half inside-out<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

like someone ran out of them.<\/p>\n

There’s the glue factory too,<\/p>\n

\n

the one<\/p>\n

you can smell before you see.<\/p>\n

\n

The glue factory, as I call it,<\/p>\n

where they repurpose glue<\/p>\n

\n

for entertainment. It’s still half dark<\/p>\n

and behind the factory and a curtain of pines,<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

backhoes are rearing their Ndbelean<\/p>\n

necks (equipped with flashlights), roughing up<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

some wretched stump. Backhoes<\/p>\n

were designed with giraffes in mind,<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

both created with demolition as their<\/p>\n

purpose. Passing the camp now, I smell<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

their urine. They must smell it too, it’s hard<\/p>\n

not to.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

But no one is around.<\/p>\n

Maybe they’re using<\/p>\n

\n

this quietest part of the day,<\/p>\n

just when it’s cool,<\/p>\n

\n

just before the dawn, to rest like we rested,<\/p>\n

urgently, those few minutes<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

on a hillside in Appalachia, or in<\/p>\n

the Alabama valley, or in the buzzing Amazon,<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

like that but<\/p>\n

repeated<\/p>\n

forever.<\/p>\n

\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Summerset I am fashioning a cog. By that I mean that I have taken an old cog; I am polishing it. I am \u2018fashioning\u2019 it\u2014shiny cogs are the new convention. I am shaving down wires and making new life. What does this machine do? It polishes cogs. I am refining and being refined. I am […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":934,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-2147","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\nAndrew Hein, July 2013 - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/andrew-hein-713\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Andrew Hein, July 2013 - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Summerset I am fashioning a cog. By that I mean that I have taken an old cog; I am polishing it. I am \u2018fashioning\u2019 it\u2014shiny cogs are the new convention. 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