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 Time left no goodbyes.

All his bags are packed and gone.

 We all pleaded, stay.

We must be done before you go.

 Time left.

There were no goodbyes.

All his baggage now is gone.

You’ll Never Make it

Time

on my hands,

hanging over my head

to kill

me.

Passing,

laughing

jeering

as it speeds by

me.

Impossibly

unstoppable.

I think I’ll run.

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It’s only 2:15

It’s passed

time,

and again we’re told

there’s plenty of time.

But it’s gone

again, and again

we see enough time.

And again the same,

sweet whispereds are

nothing.

And again we sleep the dream

as if time

were still allied with us,

while the edge creeps closer.

Cemetery

I am a kin of the gravediggers,

and their subjects, or objects, maybe.

I am a kin of their place of employment.

Mostly oaks live and die there along with other kin.

I am a kin of the life outside, too.

And so far through the yard I only pass on my way.

  BACK

THE TIME AT THE TONE

They so casually,

  even enthusiastically proclaim?

4:47.

And then, again,

4:55

  and time for the news.

As if the time should be allowed to pass unnoticed.

Surely they know that we have no other time.

This is really it.

And already it’s

5:05.

SEVENTEEN

Don’t abandon me because I’m thirty-four.

Seventeen from 34 does equal a lifetime,

but at five times seventeen you’ll know

you’ve only just begun.

How many seventeens since fourteen hundred?

And all of that an iota of the life

since before the counting began.

Abandon me because I’m thirty-four?

Would that you will have the same power in a few weeks when you turn 34.

New Year

Now January’s time has come

     to rid us of the year,

          the year that’s done no wrong to us,

               yet held us neither dear.

Just another piece of things,

     she’ll be within the week,

          a piece that^’s dropped and locked in  place

               without an even squeak.

A piece of life,

     yet not a part with any handle on.

          Even intangible the memory

               of her presence now is gone.

So, lets forget,

lets cast away that year that never happened.

(It couldn’t have, you know, been here.

I see no traces left on skin or hair. 

They’re the same as last year.)

Lets cut the next two days in half and pretend

it’s really lives we’re leaving one behind the other, and starting out again.

 January’s time is really good for little else,

except maybe for white sales.