Cliche clock

[Doreen Peri]

(2004)

Time unwinds
the wound up distance,
travel, the only insistence,
dark curtained difference,
affluent perks.

where do you you want to go?
how fast forward? how much back
to whenever you were wherever you were
there? where does the the second hand
take you when the minutes mock?
how does the clock count the
inconsistancies of walks on dust
and schemes, dreams of velocity,
dreams of velocity, liquid holes chosen
like destined historic squirms,
worms wriggling inside and out
of charmed moments, doubts
of grandeur, whirs of climate control,
didactic, the calendar measurement,
chronological the accelorated
dates.

where do you want to go?
have you ever experienced time travel,
have you ever experienced time travel
on the space curved by an infinite yin,
a difinitive yang? do you remember
how we sang the universe into being?
do you remember seeing
me for the first time?
do you remember
seeing
me?

i elect to rewind ten minutes
every ten minutes or so,
dimensional, the continuous halo
of amnesia reckoning with
hot rod digital surf,
boards like velocity,
morphed.

time can be dwarfed by the wanting.
time does not deserve that.
time answers all questions.
time figures things out.

it isn't an easy thing to doubt
its passing. time is the resilient mantra.
time is the very presence of a beat.
time takes neat fragments of artificial
perception and scours the sweet
road laugh of mechinisms
to invariably
become.

time insists you are as young
as the minute you breathe.

Time unwinds
the wound up distance,
travel, the only insistence,
dark curtained difference,
affluent perks.

i worship the time
i believe i worship
the time i believe
i worship the time
i believe in
you.

time is harder to ride
than the wind.