The Crime of Time

Time not only Yesterday changes But Tomorrow rearranges, The innocence of unborn babies tainting, Their celebratory virgin spirit tilting: A new-born able to screen from passers-by Its nudity Faster than Adam did after his stupidity. Time keeps obliging us with coarsened silk While during us towards a Canaan of sour milk We’d better we had a dietician justify And the safety of Its consumption certify… In the past it was That Angels would be on Earth for a cause partly to interact with Mortal Man And whenever possible drink from his can But chiefly God’s telegram hand him Between the very clear and the a-bit-dim, Fundamentally happy tidings Or to, Embittered Hagar some bidding… Then, God’s Seventh Heaven was a bit taller Than the highest mountains with peaks duller, Wherefore goose pimples from the heavens broke out, When the already longish Babel still aimed to thrust out The prelude to God’s multiplication of tongues And unleashing of the confusion emanating from lungs.