Papers super Doc
Cared out, by the system
Clockless but stand proud.
Let birdsong retrieve me from the land of dreams,
And light and shadows make a sundial of streets.
Let the tides of hunger and sleep in my body,
Negotiate or duel with the rhythms of the sea.
Give me some days estranged from clockwork time,
Freed from the litany of pre-loaded hours tolled,
Calling the fretful to rituals of uneventful bustle,
Yoked to the harried scurry of the almost-punctual.
I long for the sweet air of unencumbered morns,
And the return of the possibilities that have flown.
The wind rattles and shuttles leaves into fall
And grass wipes off its tears in the pour of night.
I hear throbbing haunches and tramps of stallions.
Garlands of blinking cowry shells
Ferried long from the treasury shores of the hoary moon circle their ripe manes.
Their hooves are cobbled ribbons that swim in the vicinity,
In a green picked from the virgin gardens of orion.
Then he appears on a grandeur chariot,
Sublime in the way he stoops for my being.
Every turn of the draconian rims, grand and millennial.
Crickets kick in creak and hearts heat in beats and him speaks in flickers.
The seraph spread of the white of his wings shines,
In purest and fairest of odd
Streaming milky in the way it pours out light unto the sun
His robe was torn from the scintilla of clockless nebulae
His skin freckles in sparkles of the gold of lyra and emeralds of taurus
He is not an enemy yet carries a triple-edged stainless rapier
Fetched from the mouth of draconis.
An aura of pirouetting cub whirlstorms keep him faceless
He thirsts my glory and haunts again
He's my angel of success
Upon hours spent, little hope is lent
To a far more pleasing incandescent light
A hue of clockless space seen upon its face
Aggravating the light into a speckled fright
Futuristic visions, are merely illusions
Yet ne’er doth the lie cease to glisten
And many wait with a faith hard to trace
Lost in a teleported reverie of lasting confusion
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