Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

(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 definitive 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.

it's about time i remembered this poem.

Busy Busy Busy! Whew! It seems you have exploded! Bombs Away, Dream Babies!!

posted all this stuff months ago

just figured i'd acknowledge a few of them that got no replies

there are many (most)

dreaming on

We ride time
it blurs past fast and
startled near the end
we grip each moment, caress its being
flirt as if to entice
its delicious lengthening and insert
and we can then
get back into the saddle again
for a hot fucking ride!

Oh well I couldn't resist turning it sexual. A girl can dream.

You write beautifully, Doreen. I'm picking my way slowly through your divine word flowerings...a petal at a time.

back in the saddle again! heh.. i love it!

mousey1's hot!

i'm dreaming, too... why not? it's about time, no?

thank you, kind lady

Doreen, this is simply a great. I find I've been captured, like an artist buzz on the repeats, they're sublime dear. Keep them coming, write em up.

Thank you, SLD, for taking the time to explore my exploration of time ... it's so hard to hold on to, impossible, yes... bing bam boom, twenty years have passed.

Treasure every moment.

I treasure your comment.