Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Canvas 667



Canvas 667

April 12, 2016




2 comments:

Gary B. Fitzgerald said...

Time

Time once measured
by sun and moon
and the balance of the days,
the slipping of each
from dark to dark,
keeping all in order,

now measured by fleet
seconds and hours,
the ticking of the clock,
moving ever faster between
full and final quarter,
need and obligation,
as we slip from sparse
to stark.

Copyright 2009 – Tall Grass & High Waves, Gary B. Fitzgerald

William Michaelian said...

. . . from sparse, to stark . . . from sparse, to stark . . .

like the relentless ticking of a clock. I really like that.


Clocks

Judgmental, arrogant, insistent,
protective of their places
beside the bed or on the wall.

Jealous, too, of the hands
that placed them there,
and the freedom to walk away.

Lonely, if the truth were told,
ashamed to be imprisoned
by their own cruel sense of humor.

Crucified, looking out across a field
of empty rooms, bleeding time,
too late to change, too soon to die.

(From Songs and Letters, June 4, 2006)