Give Me Some Time


Time is running fast,

faster than light, faster

than the blink of your

eye. Hustle, push it harder 

to the limits of pain

and sweat and fast breath. 


Time may end before the sun

rises again, so hyah! Move it!

Get the lead out by osmosis

or fission or smelting,

but go on a diet  and grow

lighter, if necessary sprout

bigger wings, attain miles

per second.


I made some time a while ago

but it fell behind and had

to be reset. The time you have

left is all yours to be used

until the watch stops. Is it

this hour that asks of you,

"Our muscles move us or

is it the tides?


Time is a given, obviously. You

must measure it in never emptied

quantities as if the final recipe

needed more halves, more eighths.

Amounting as if snow in a heavy

downfall, persistent as melting

watches, pushing up through the

dirt first with crocuses, basking

and bathing to the splash of wings 

in an incredibly hot sun-soaked



Time came to visit humanity

and earth’s rant repealed the

conundrums of now. Arriving in

increments, as an expanding

idea of forces floating beyond 

understanding, beyond distance.


Little steps taken with a

hand on the face of all entities

vaguely temporal, harshly corporeal,

caressing sensuality, borderline



Give yourself a moment

to inhale the essence of mass 

and energy dense as dew and

wet with waiting. Granted,

the purposes of assumption 

will tell you how long it

takes to create a snowflake,

to cross the universe

from unending to unendin?

To say yes? Just yes.

If you squint you can see

the earth move. Or is it

the clouds? Or birds migrating

in front of a mass of cold

wind? Sparingly, doses of time 

sprinkled for taste.


Any amount suffices since you

have already requested years

measured in lethargic seconds

and decades measured in steps

taken softly. Take an hourglass

full of timelines intersecting

other timelines.Bring in both

hands the christened abacus.





Author's Notes/Comments: 

For Bishwanath Murkherjee who said: "Give me some time. Pleeeese."

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I was approaching 65 when I wrote theis poem and time was becoming a real thing. Now, I am approaching 70 and, yes, it is a real thing. ~(:D)~ slc