THE CLOCK DETONATES

I fear my nebular shadows might taint the stillness of white clouds

The parched troposphere is parching my humid breath, my humid body

Suspended in the air

A borehole is running out of fluid

I hear the music of pendulum galloping

tearing used papers, scratching empty walls

whispering I couldn’t write no more

My stagnant hands seek through the clamor for clarity

I sniff my hazes, I sniff my sobs

Is that what you really want?
They say to me

My glare screams and breaks the concrete silence

The clock detonates, spewing time spewing incarcerated words

spewing pieces of myself

Like a newborn’s howl as it enters life,

declaring the world that it is alive

Surging in the chasms of every pallid day, of every pallid life

For I am a newborn now, howling to the moon of its darkness & light

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A quickie poem for such a high and dry day