Tag Archives: time

Is there still…?

Is there still…?

Is there still time?
Is there still time to be human?

this storm of separation, this vertigo,
this howling and this yelping, this moaning, this plea 
to end the pain,
this trumpet of the angel of death, of the angel of bleakness, 
this abandon to isolation, this anguish, this torment!

In every house,
in every home,
in every garden,
in every hallway,
in every painting or photograph suspended on a wall
that never protected anyone from anyone else –
this bleeding!

The eyes and the faces,
the trees and the boats and the potted plants,
the discolored fruit on the tables in picture frames – 
exploded, detonated, turning to ash:
singed snowflakes trickle to the ground in piles,
left and right.

disintegrating into swarms of wingless butterflies,
blown up by this clashing of easterly and westerly gales,
blown away – 
not to fly,
but to fall.
And accumulate.
And cover the earth.
Like merciless hail the size of balled fists, 
like rot and like locusts,
this earth where our lives used to grow
all fresh and immediate and full-bodied and zesty…
And fragile.

And all the poets now sleepless or haunted.

Is there still space?
Is there still space to be human?
‘Here begins eternity,’ reads a big sign
above the entrance to the cemetery.
Here, where people turn into quiet bones,
or maybe up on a hill, in the middle of nowhere,
where violent indigo storms are brewing
amid endless fields of pure yellow grains,
and weak, so weak,
the fragrance of the lonesome linden.

Is there still…?money to be made and lives to be lost,
answers the echo.

And as we shore up empty spaces, 
and as we run into ourselves and disengage,
and as we move away from each other’s mess, each other’s weakness, and each other’s pain,
we miss each other, don’t we?



You and I on this small bridge

where one can watch the passage of time

in liquid form,

the voices it drowns,

the secrets it buries,

the things that will never again


Watch for timelessness instead

Watch for timelessness instead

a watch is a little

glass prison

for time –


where the seconds

serve a life sentence

without the possibility

of parole.


people like to wear

captive time

around their wrist.

when all the seconds are numbered and can never escape,

they call the watch good.




counting down

to the end.


I’d like to start a petition

to free time

I’d like to see it


and watch

for timelessness instead.


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