Autumn
urban afternoons
get
shorter and sweeter -
standing
in the middle of I street
I await a
very specific angle on the bow
as my ship
called Earth comes about:
a unique
perspective on how time passes –
in the
distance you can see Virginia:
but how many
beats per measure
are there
in Standard time?
the future
is reaching back to join us,
to warn
us, to help us alter course
to
starboard so we can pass port to port –
the
present and the future,
like two
ships, passing in
a storm.
We post to
a blog or sing a song:
we write
some non-rhyming words
we call
poetry –
and time
is a social construct
a
contractual agreement we accept
from fear
of things we don’t know –
dawn to
dusk, high noon
to the
darkest part of night –
a 24
second shot clock.
We sink a
three pointer
that
leaves a vacuum in its wake –
the chain
nets echo its refrain.
11/05/2013
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