Man the last days of August absolutely dragged on, while these first few days of Sep. absolutely flew by! Whoosh! Such contrast. I wonder why.
To celebrate our misconstrued passage of time, here is a poem! I’ll try to keep it simple.
He huffed instead of hmmed
Because he was older
And grew backwards
From sage to child.
He grimaced instead of smiled
Because time was slowing down
Not accelerating like he had hoped;
But au-contraire, he liked it–
The subtle bits of hallucination embedded in his clock
And the way it ticked just like him.
He met and kept meeting and knew how to make do
Foreboding himself, setting the future for the past a passage
Through itself, under itself, through the forested woods.
Limestone and rust–no texture mattered more than that of the fabric of time
In which he wrapped himself, it simultaneously bumpy and smooth,
Delicate and rough
Sandpapered silk.
Damage? Unknown (to him)
Just saying Hi! to strangers
Along the way
And sinews snapping and reforming
The synapses of the watch on a parapet
The bridge connecting here to there–
Never forever, ever always,
Time.
~Don’t work overtime unless they pay you, folks!
burndoubtstar 