Lacing up a wheel
Sounds like I am going for a walk.
I try not to get lost
Is the spoke holding the hub up
Or is the rim hanging from the hub
Sometime it is and sometimes it isn’t
Counting holes going round
First one way then the next.
The madness to find a rhythm
Impossibly confused wobble
A wheel in parts together
That can’t hold itself up
Could never roll soon
Takes shape of round
The moment of truth
For true the test
The tensing of a wheel
Ends in a hyperbolic
Paraboloid that I could never
Purposely make.
Its beautiful and wrong at the same time.
Lacing up a wheel again.
Cycle Verse 