Fantasizing
traffic lights on Road sixty-six,
when the desert tells you to halt.
Looking around
into a three hundred and sixty degree rotation
wherein Table Mountain and Ayers Rock are
fusing into Rocky Mountains.
Translate Today.
Natural day six hundred and seventy.
Enough JSB!
I want your music not
your calculations.
What I’m saying…
Never since my childhood
I experienced this same emptiness
in the fullness of my existence.
I’m a liar
I have seen this before
less empty
less full.
We are falling
apart into parcels
at every milestone
we aspire to.
Time shouldn’t have adherents.
While the decay of our bodies continues timelessly
we clean the stones of a medieval cathedral.
The obsessive sound of a clock
takes me into a daze.
Why can’t I stay tired?
note: (JSB: Johann Sebastian Bach)
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