This day has no light in it
and it's as if the very hands
on all the clocks want no more
of the useless sweeping moves
to just point out coordinated reference
of where lies Epoch in its futile march;
as if the thumbtack centerclock
binding their fate 12 after 12 after 12 should a loosened screw not be,
but riveted in protest
to force Move out
and clearing Singularity.
Time's too heavy to carry Now.
Something's brewing up on deck,
I feel it in the anchor House!
All that holds below soon overboard
and the winds again
bring all burdens to Lagoon.