Time Clock

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    Time Clock

    Move minutes move
    You know the path to
    sixty five degrees northeast.
    It’s dusk and each light
    ghouls over its hill.
    Illumine the way to
    the master with its minion
    in tow: jobless Joe hugs the curb like
    a lover afraid to let go.
    It’s two a.m. in the bottle,
    Hoisted tangent to the sky:
    offering to the god of
    Stray dogs, give Joe a warm twitch
    ©2009 j.a.o.a.

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    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    jaoa’s Poems (8)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Black Widow 0
    Time Clock 0
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    Bated Breath— 1
    Conch— 0
    Blushing Heels— 1
    No Matter How Pious 0
    Budding Fem-- 1