The Hands
On
The Face
Of a timepiece
Cry out
To be re-arranged
One year
Has passed
Everything’s different
At the same
Time
Nothing has changed…
So
Lacking in moral fibre
I turn another page
John Berryman’s resources
I do not have
Or
Richard Manuel’s
Tears of Rage
Taking stock
An inventory
Of all the things I’ve got
“I don’t know what it means
(Keith Richards sang)
But it means a lot”
And so
Time
Is moving to and fro
Today (again) the clocks go back
Time
Standing still or running out
On Chronos’ beaten track
My Circadian rhythmic body
Has only one thing
Left to say
It yearns for
And craves for
The action
That
Made
Emile Zola’s
.
Harry Lupino
Picture Nick Victor
Picture Nick Victor