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The Clock Poems: A Poetry Collection

Three

The sun begins its ascent.

It sends out gentle warnings at first,

a few lonely gray streaks that wave hello to the moon

and softly embrace her fading silver light.

I close my eyes and wait.

It’s so much better to feel this next part.

Tick-tock.

The star-kissed dew

sends delightful shivers up my spine.

Only bird song pierces the silence,

orchestrated musical missiles.

Then, it touches me.

The first rays of gold seep into my hands.

Tick-tock.

It feels golden-orange today.

Whispers of violet tickle my ears.

The blushing scent of pink warms my nose.

I absorb every color in blind ecstasy.

I number my breaths.

The final figure I speak aloud.

One-hundred.

Open eyes, an intake of breath,

a sudden flood of light that sucks me

into a flaming whirlpool of magnificence.

Everything, everything, sears my soul.

Waiting arouses hunger,

and hunger is the best sauce.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Six

I listen to the cardinal’s call,

I scale the apogee;

The crashing of the waterfall,

is not the raging sea.

The mighty oak I left behind

has not the redwood’s strength;

The bustling Mainstreet of my home

has not the Highway’s length.

I’m searching now, I know not what–

I crave what I can’t see.

I’ll find the answer, track it down,

create my history.

Tick-tock.

I’m almost halfway there, I think–

and yet so far away.

Perhaps I’m merely chasing ghosts,

perhaps the night is day.

A clever twist, a newborn thought,

these are my daily bread.

It’s both a blessing and a curse,

to know the things I’ve read.

I’m feasting on a worldly fare,

“Forbidden Fruit Buffet.”

The sweetness of its sustenance

is fullness and decay.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Nine

It’s a new day, but such an old life.

I don’t know, anymore,

what I’ve read. Or, rather–

I simply can’t distinguish

between what I’ve read

and what I’ve experienced.

Life is a frustrating game,

a game of “Spot the Difference!”

Can you feel the sharp jab

of that exclamation point?

I can. It’s a needle to my brain,

an incessant reminder.

Tick-tock.

What is memory? Is it a link

to the person I once was, and

to all the people I could have been?

I cannot trust it. It remembers things

that never were. It conjures thoughts

that are not mine. My memory isn’t me.

I hate knowing this. Being certain

of only this. It’s a big world after all.

Hang Disney for teaching me otherwise.

The world is huge, and I am small.

I line up my ideals on the chopping block

and sever their heads one by one.

Tick-tock.

Have you ever felt the uncertainty

before a dying twilight? The sun

never really wants to leave. I wish

I could find a lock that would subdue

the western sky. I would gladly keep the sun

as my willing, time-bound, glorious prisoner.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.


Twelve

The mountaintop. The zenith. The climax.

Call it what you will, but this moment is my crown.

A reason. A guide. A meaning.

I’ve found my Polaris at last.

Tick-tock.

Imagination is futile in the face of a new reality.

Moments are more precise, yet suddenly meaningless.

This discovery can never be tied down.

Years mean nothing to me now.

Tick-tock.

Forget dawn, twilight, and the gloaming!

I see suddenly that all colors are one.

The sun will go on setting forever.

I make myself a willing prisoner.

Tick-tock.

Satisfaction is a sweet glaze when knowledge is fresh.

Trust me, I am not a skinny baker.

Hunger is satiated, fulfilled, quenched.

I found the ingredients, crafted my own utensils.

Tick-tock.

Never stop at a single bite.

I never should have waited.

Nothing is complete with a first impression alone.

I will never wait again.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The Center

The sun is at the center–

at least, that’s what I believed.

But there’s been a strange occurrence,

and I think I’ve been deceived.

My mind’s trapped in an earthquake,

but my feet are on the ground.

The earth seems very flat,

I could’ve sworn that it was round.

Everything familiar is gone.

I think I might be too.

But then, gone is a funny concept

when you know the things I knew.

I constantly gaze forward,

and if you’re looking back,

perhaps I’ll glimpse your shadow,

in a crevice or a crack.

If ignorance is bliss,

then I’ve found Paradise’s shore.

But Earth is at the center.

And I’m in hell forevermore.

Tick. Tock. Tick.

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