Becoming Midnight

Spent yesterday contemplating clocks
As humans have, from age to age
Many days, these hands sweep effortlessly
The pain hidden by some gift of grace
Yesterday, oh, the seconds though
Surely they doubled in gravity
Looped back and proceeded to wait….

This business of time is rather an art
So thus, must be valued as such
Will I wait one more night
One more day’s tick-tock ruse
When it seems only correct to go
Godspeed today
Where I know my heart must be tomorrow

Time Stealers

Thieving we were
Taking back, actually
All the sea had thieved from us

Putting away demanded perfection
This time
Substituting with the misshapen

Summer shoes gone now
We, walking away
Our crime ‘gainst the dark, to pray

Dud

I imagine the universe echoes us all
At some point distant, or close
Rings back like a lover, or brother, or friend
Then, silence -when you need them most

It’s possible love transcends murderous words
In subsequent lifetimes, or past
A dynamite stick, burning from both the ends
Its light soon to fizzle, it’s heat a mere flash

Uninsulated

Thank you for this window now,
Of thin and vintage time.
The safehouse to set a spell,
The anchored birch, my lean-to.
That I’d be reminded
In these gusty days
There is still
The reaching skyward
And strength to see it.