 |
 |
Loud buckets, I suspect, L, will trump markets in the end. Bill On Wed, Aug 27th, 2014 at 7:16 PM, Lawrence Upton <[log in to unmask]> wrote: > It is half past two in the afternoon. > > Mechanisms bang away. People scurry. > > What are we to do? There isn't enough > > money to continue, they say; nor funds > > for necessary growth. We are held here; > > and restrained. We shall be beaten. Markets > > decide the quality of our justice; > > our civilisation in general. > > There is neither time; nor talent. > > The machines upon which we have relied break > > and have not been much repaired. What to do? > > Someone tips hot soapy water across > > an entrance foyer. Clatter of metal; > > the handle swings over, banging against > > a step, and slips out of her hands, tumbling. > > Part of the floor pattern chips. She tries to > > go quietly, picks up sideways the loud bucket. > > A droning voice becomes audible, separable. > >