Monday, July 25, 2011

The Distance Between

Trying to forget about time.
That seconds
bleed into minutes,
into hours.
That somewhere, on a line,
there is a point
waiting for me.
This moment should exist,
pure and unencumbered
by mounds of ticks
or blankets of tocks.
Yet my ability to exist,
here and now
fails me,
as does the sun
as it rises higher,
robbing me of
my moment in amber.
So I curse,
brew coffee
and start the day,
lest it start without me.


  1. Oh, I like it. Lives measured in mounds of ticks or blankets of tocks, a neat concept--and true.

  2. Very nice.
    Especially like the ending!

  3. I like this poem! It is sad that we are so encumbered by time! Nice job!

  4. One of the best I've read today. Word choice, flow, message all well chosen.