"grandfathers" poems - Hello Poetry

the angel amongst us ~for Alexander, master splasher~ *flexibility is important when poetry writing in a warm tub and a long day ahead is scheduled; so willingly accept the autocorrect for I am both an experienced poet and bath soaker and believer in wondrous mystery and unexpected fumbles that lead to to miracle touchdowns ~•~ the two mathematicians examine the angle, measure the degree of difference at intersection and bless it with an identity, calling it by its name, perhaps obtuse, perhaps right, perhaps both two sets of eyes examine the angle, study its ****** expression the old man says: see the angle on the clock formed by the big handle on the twelve and the little hand on the eight? this is angle of eight o’clock: time to stop the splashing and start the get-readying for we have miles to go before the ocean can say hello! little angel says angle no go and slashes the water with both hands to establish the firmness of his views and change Einstein’s time from present to future the angle depends on the perspective of the viewer the old poet comprehends leaving a warm tub is a regretful thing but he measures the degree of difference at this intersection of time and bath and blesses it with an identity “time to go” the angle of my angel is now 2 pointed arms, pointed straight up, at the twelve o'clock, as he stands up in fevered protest, my arms sweep his little legs to a point at eight o’clock, angel, commenting on his swift flight disputes the grandfathers physics "no go now, now go later^" though the angle is unchanged the perspective of time and space (and traffic), yet differs one sees an angle, the angel sees time eternally folding in on itself* that is the angle amongst us

0

Aug 29, 2018

Aug 29, 2018 at 8:58 AM UTC

nat-lipstadt

the angle amongst us

the angel amongst us ~for Alexander, master splasher~ *flexibility is important when poetry writing in a warm tub and a long day ahead is scheduled; so willingly accept the autocorrect for I am both an experienced poet and bath soaker and believer in wondrous mystery and unexpected fumbles that lead to to miracle touchdowns ~•~ the two mathematicians examine the angle, measure the degree of difference at intersection and bless it with an identity, calling it by its name, perhaps obtuse, perhaps right, perhaps both two sets of eyes examine the angle, study its ****** expression the old man says: see the angle on the clock formed by the big handle on the twelve and the little hand on the eight? this is angle of eight o’clock: time to stop the splashing and start the get-readying for we have miles to go before the ocean can say hello! little angel says angle no go and slashes the water with both hands to establish the firmness of his views and change Einstein’s time from present to future the angle depends on the perspective of the viewer the old poet comprehends leaving a warm tub is a regretful thing but he measures the degree of difference at this intersection of time and bath and blesses it with an identity “time to go” the angle of my angel is now 2 pointed arms, pointed straight up, at the twelve o'clock, as he stands up in fevered protest, my arms sweep his little legs to a point at eight o’clock, angel, commenting on his swift flight disputes the grandfathers physics "no go now, now go later^" though the angle is unchanged the perspective of time and space (and traffic), yet differs one sees an angle, the angel sees time eternally folding in on itself* that is the angle amongst us