Timeline
It’s early | so early | to tell you | the story | of summer
When violet | beams lift | the shutter of | heaven | at dawn
So fast that | the marking | between day | and night | is a sharpened
Dimensionless | blade’s edge | in silence | partitioning | time
I live on | the brim | of the rift | demarcating | tomorrow
And watch it | unfold but | forever | am kept out | of reach
I stretch out | my arm | trying to touch | the new me | one day older
The person | who until | tomorrow | can’t really | exist.
I’m waving | and trying to | seek out | tomorrow’s | wise counsel
To prod and | inquire about | things still to | pass in | my life
While yesterday’s | me loudly | asks un — | divided | attention
I hear but | ignore it | since its present | has already | passed.