Much has being going on for far too long
no secret patterns are sensed any more
in entrails or among paving stones
No one was really completely convinced
too many leaf falls had taken place
Last night none of the dead were heard to speak
yet the night offered no place to rest either
up to the surface came that
which unsolved lies sunken in old wells
And then that ticking
not the ticking of a clock but even so ticking
that which belongs to childhood and drawn-out ageing
and which measures time in a different way.
No comments:
Post a Comment