I'm taking a small detour from talking about people named Eli Whitney, to show you this great poem about Eli Whitney by Tim Clarke:
The looms
so spread-eagle splayed,
fine harp, the weaver of hymns
God is listening
the cotton gin is marching
and we follow
Feral engines,
artificial hearts of pure-bred fantasy
beat deep in the chest
where so thoroughly buried,
so gently molested,
enjoy a subtle bending
times are harder
so we follow...
Anyway, to see the rest of this poem, you will need to check out Tim's website, where you can find this any many other cool poems.
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