The knees are the eyes of the legs.
By them I am never transfixed,
but rather transported to where
I want to go. They will never
return me to where I have been:
amorphous or amphibian.
At each turning point they have
never failed to turn: first from
cell to soul and then to something
I have yet to understand. My
knees seem to know what's
next, even in the dark
Pick a Man, Any
There's nothing wrong with a man wanting to own some tools. Can't find fault with that can you? There's nothing wrong with owning some tools and a box to put them in. Nope, only way to carry them is in a box and keep it shut. Give a kid a hammer and the whole world becomes a nail. Kids have a way of getting real crazy sometimes. I got a neighbor whose kid sawed his baby sister's leg off below the knee while she was sleeping. I haven't got any kids, but I take no chances. Keep my toolbox lid shut tight as a coffin's. Rather be carrying my tools myself than let some crazy kid get at them, and then me be carried like so much dead weight in a sealed box.