9. O Daughter

“ What a shame the mechanician stopped so soon, when he could have gone ahead and given his machine a soul!”    Condorcet

O daughter,
daughter flesh of my frenzied longing.

         Work of my hands clank and whir          of my affections.

The blasphemy of my want.          Iron ram caught in the thicket
I lay            you on the altar          {of the sea floor.}              My imprudence.

In darkness – rocking on tides.
                                                             Pendulum.
                                                                     Pendulum.
                                                           Pendulum.
                                                                 Oh pendulum.

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