We duck beneath a helicopter blade rotation:
that makes some sense, although it’s slicing
well above our heads. Think of the headsman’s
axe taking a swing: you feel the little nick as he
adjusts, the way you would measure chopping
kindling for the stove, so for a head.
Then when the great headsman of the world
creates that little nick o’ the neck, why
do we ignore the long supply lines for our
food and other stuff that comes around
the great curve the earth and will starve us
when the great swing of the blade cuts off
all ways of bringing it dependent on the oil
so fast dwindling? Or will we turtles
duck in time?
