Lost March Time

March 2016- Updated 3/12 -13  between 2 & 3 AM- if that was possible

Daylight Stealing Time

So we lose a little time terrible now

in the wee hours tonight

We steal the hour here.

Conspire to hide.

O Please don’t wonder where.

C’mon…

Squirrel away an hour in secret

Pull backwards at the hands of the clock face.

Tick along with me.

Let’s make the red finger talk

as it passes us by again and again.

 

Tonight we turn back time

Won’t you turn back some time with me.

Like crisp clean chilly starched sheets.

Peel away the day

and slip in between.

 

Won’t you turn your back on some time with me

upon that maybe once perhaps we just might agree.

 

We might steal that time

hide in the lost hour

put it away somewhere

where they’ll never find it

never even miss it.

 

In the cool clear evening

after all the daylights busy color has faded

and all that is left is just us

clearly a jail break

a common escape

is in progress.

 

I hear sirens in the distance.

I see sirens in your eyes

They report an all points bulletin.

The authorities are baffled.

As we speak

Roadblocks are being planned.

 

Officers will produce snapshots

of our expired images

The ones we once looked like then

in the silence of the hours

we stole.

 

Our crime

is public knowledge.

The purpose of the theft

was always open

to common conjecture.

The motive attributed

to persistent desire.

 

It is after all

the only clues

we will leave them with

even if

our fingerprints

are all over each other.

After we are all over everything.

 

Won’t you turn your back

on some time with me

upon that maybe

just once perhaps we might agree.

 

To get away with

one secret perfect crime.

 

From Gridville – Spring 99/05

 

*

*

Once upon a time…..Time and motion/Cash and carry……Time after time…..Time to go…….Time to reconsider….Where did the time go ?………Time flies….Time frys….Time to burn…..No time for this…..Time keeps on slippin’ slippin’ slippin’ into the future…..The time is right…..This is not a good time…..The Terrible Now is the time ……No time like the present…..Time to wise up…..Time to reconsider….You’re taking all the time in the world….and you can’t afford it…..Take time to smell the roses…..but mind your ass those thorns….Time will tell……or lie….…If the third time is a charm, is the fourth a curse ? …..I made time for you….Not this time….only this time……Time for you to go….Time for you to stay…..Lost time….Found time….Time to cut the bullshit……Nobody has time for you anymore…..Time is of the essence…..Time heals all wounds……Time wounds all heels…….Only time can heal a broken heart……but only a broken heart can fix a heel (usually the same one)……..Killing two birds with one stone will not save time…..So many [insert your own word], so little time…..Running out of time……It is just a matter of time……Passing time……Time has past you by……Killing time……timing is everything….…Well …It’s about time….Time of your life…..Time’s a wasting…..All in good time….Time marches on… your face and all over your ass…Desperate times…….May you live in interesting times….It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…..Time is money, but your account is overdrawn…..I made time for you..….Your  time has come and gone….All the time in the world is never enough…..End of times ….One thing at a time….  Too many things at a time…Time ‘s up…..Time is not your friend…..Time together….Time apart…..Time to think….Time to part… ….a time for us,…..Someday…… a time for us…. Time together with time to spare…… Time to learn…. Time to care……. Someday…..some place…..sometime…… somewhere……………..but………………..Cuando ?

Uncollected -year unknown

*

 

Mad March World

In this light
March simply has
nowhere to go
but……on.

The step in the day
a longer presence
of illumination into
the afternoon later now
every new year born
in this same way.

There is this sense of urgency
a sort of headless Madness
that ignites
brittle tree limbs to
fan fine struck fingers
in complicated silhouette

flung across the horizon
like a bottle of India ink
spilled and splattered
upon a pale blue sky page.

I send these words
mere reflection
auditory stenography
purely dependent
on perception systems
beyond my grasp or control

Along the prescribed channels
as the pale blue light
drains the light
from the sky’s page.

-Collected 3/11

 

Fragments of the March

Light upon the Lake
Waves frozen in mid-break

Broken Shafts of weak March sun
newly poured upon cracked and
shattered sheets of hyper-white
entrenched ice
a history of persistent bitter air
trapping flowing waters still born
beneath.

Light upon the Lake
waves frozen in mid-break

Barely Marching sun
arrested impressions
strange frigid contours
rivets of pressure
compacted tighter
isobars deceptive surface
unlikely to support any weight

Yet enough to entrap
a fool’s misstep

Light upon the Lake
Waves frozen in mid-break.

-Collected 3/2011

*

Of texture and Color

Waiting in the door
the bartender with some
exasperation shrugged
all I heard was a spicy bloody Mary.

I nodded in agreement and immediately wrote down
You change the pens color in me.

It was the creme feel to the page
somewhere inbetween the sheep and oil skin

To the touch that defines the lines content
in context calling in a fluid hue
all that two parallel paths
can carry between them
all they can contain
in the ear that listens
closely for what the eyes sees
left for you upon
the creme of the page.

You can’t touch color
or so they say.

However the request to bathe
in tone and shade is to extend
to reach out the hand and try

Touch were all the colors
never answer to their proper names
and refuse to simply run out and dry.

Perhaps then it is that desire
to request the color of the pen to change
is what so very few can do to each other
-for each other.

No one chooses anything here
The first glace into the others face
that rings the bell or
reverberation between
the four eyes looking into
the creme of the page
as it goes……………..ding.

-Collected 3/11