as space sufficiently expresses, or succinctly paraphrases with the concerns for time: or hue, or suntan, or baritone hummed weakening into a humph... crazy-bone etc.; sometimes poetry is so much more than the usurping of onomatopoeia... life is the essence of being timed, but that's hardly the essence in the space we occupy - over-versed thinking never formalised toward an outer-reaching imagination that might become copper-raindrops' worth of Disney, or a way memory is made adaptive to cure dementia... yes, space is the essential component for the compartment of life... i believe time has no place in what's to be called life, i believe time exists, but on an Olympic scale, in the metres and millimetres, on the minutes and seconds scales... space is the essence of life: so diverging from known apparatus to unknown operations, thus so diverging from known operations to unknown apparatus... and so on and so forth, until dinosaurs roar and we merely say: yawn - arrogant in our guise.

true, space devalues time; as said the people between us who we never had a meal with, but had the crazed look of craving an unnecessary contentment with despair. can i guess at something? i like your alphabetical onomatopoeia, i.e. pun for knocking, a sorta p p p / b b b, not necessarily needing the suffix for rhyme, why is it that poetry requires the echo, why not rhyme upfront? anyway... but it's there, that alphabetical onomatopoeia... a repeating of the first letter, like opening an oyster... which contradicts the orthodox methodology of rhyme... meaning that there's a repeated seance of an opening... which (although alphabetically staged to a prevailing repeat) equips the reader with many more surprising alternations - basically you begin with what rhymes alphabetically, but not necessarily phonetically: the lost suffix -ing via i had a cat called blinding, and he said all things were shining...  one of your poems enabled me to spot this reversal of poetic orthodoxy, in that the rhyme became less musicological, and more rubric enlisting a coherent schema, such as a list... or rhyme via propped first, and cascading into oblivion, never really minding the waggling tail of a bouncy-ball of accepted verse. aardvark and acupuncture... the rhyme begins with A, and ends as it should end, diverging, so there's no feel for a repeat akin to drum or rhythmic bass... otherwise: shout an A into a cave and hear an echo... that's what poetry is damnably worthy to congest one's thinking with... don't rhyme: echo! and ensure that echo is alphabetical rather than musicological. perchance lessened talk, i too would have revised this example with some worthy emoticon.