Poetry

It’s No O’Clock

Time is
undivided
wild
unbridled

tanned and toned
with curly blonde
locks
bounding over
mountaintops

through deep
sea gloom

in the
emergency room
when they call
time-of-death

in the creasing lines
beside my eyes

from fingertip to fingertip
holding all of space
primordial

ancient
never aging
a day

surfing “OM”
through Himalayan
caves
not here
not there
nowhere
everywhere
I can say

I’ve seen him
on occasion

grinning

watching me
race
to and fro
as though
I could
outpace him

Categories: Poetry

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