awas amidst
the bits and bobs of my pseudo-sleep,
check my watch oft habitually,
understand
that the precisive time is not
what I seek,
no,
what I desire is reassurance of
some sort, that time is present,
that it is
a measurable actuality in,
my about,
a breathable actuality
woven into my
Body’s Constructional
Constitutional Cconsciousness
that time is there, here,
for it is rhe
wondrous of all wonder,
it is a
present of, from,
and,
is love itself,
love is time…
(think on it)
it is all and only
butpossibility,
the future in
slow mo
is both
realizable & visible ,
even some part knowable;
its somes & sums,
as we daily
practice realizing it,
as if
time is a
smuggler of snuggles,
comforting but not
for too long
like
a new lover’s
exploratory
beginning beguiling explanations
reforming our ardor
into
viability
or
a glove
asking us each:
slow s l i d e
your hand inside,
then,
newly commence
waving yours,
airy all about
conducting a new self
into your
precious moment of precarious
existence,
that we dare not waste!
so:
write and right
are no accident,
but purposed
equals,
friends,
brothers and sisters,
one and both
coexisting
at
in
the same time…
writ in the dark hours
when the watch
watches over me
9/17/24
