It is in the counting of things there is yet to do.
It is not in the things you staple together.
It is in your desire to staple.
It is not in the speaking on the telephone.
It is in how loud you are speaking.
It is not in the cable T.V.
It is in the cables themselves.
It is not in the smiling as a gesture.
It is in the teeth which are the smile, and also the tongue.
It is not in the baying for the blood.
It is in the actual baying; the quality of the baying.
It is not in the plastic bottle.
It is in the color of the lid of the plastic bottle.
It is not in your threshing machine.
It is in how much your workers are afraid of your threshing machine.
It is not in the chocolate factory.
It is in the very fact that there is a chocolate factory.
It is not in the chair.
It is in the list that does exist somewhere of all the people who have ever sat in the chair.
It is not in pineapple chunks.
It is in pineapple rings.
It is not in rocket fuel.
It is in the drinking of rocket fuel.
It is not in jokes.
It is in the need for jokes.
It is not in time, exactly.
It is in the sand in the hourglass.
It is not in books.
It is in the sober atmosphere of the library.
It it not in the banging of the big bass drum.
It is in the inaudible swishing of the conductor's baton.
It is not the devil you know.
It is in the devil you don't know.
It is not in the pie filling.
It is in the pastry.
It is not in the rubbish.
It is where you put the rubbish.
it's not in the size of your log,
ReplyDeleteit's in the urgency of your flush.