Startled sprinkles twinkle and toll
The time ignores my grunts and groans
Everyday empties its force of roll
Cannons sound -- and mothers moan
Between the place where time is not
And heaven’s hell slams its door
Little men with giant heads hot
Are lost beneath the fluid floor
New nothings interrupt the waste
Of petty playthings -- argue -- lose
Experience coats with sugar taste
The salty melancholy muse
Perhaps -- possible -- should -- could -- can
“I saw it rise and fall alone”
Reaction time relative to man
Depends on tendered tailored tones
Wishes want thickness, color and cover
Design for moth and spider to loan
Answers are easy like lionized lovers
And time ignores my grunts and groans
Growing old is the pits. Not growing old is worse.
