Time Clocked Me In The Face

This face of time looks more like Jackson Pollack’s Autumn

than Cezanne’s still-life of apples and pears

cause time is an abstract

and that picture of apples and pears

isn’t ever going to ripen or rotten

like some random splash of paint

can be defined in a billion different ways

can become a pattern

in the eyes

of the mad and the committed

of anything so furiously

that everything they see

looks just like it

like this poem

can never mean

what it means to me

what it means to you

so let’s drink to that.


4 thoughts on “Time Clocked Me In The Face

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