Monday, April 08, 2024

(A Vision of America Seen) Counterclockwisely

I stand astride 

Across the continent

Sea to shining sea

Watching the time

Flow back into the past

Counterclockwisely


Old men grow young

Their births then undone

Fruit grows into the tree

Which then turn to bud

Vanishes in the mud

Counterclockwisely 


The ships full of men

Sailing against the tide

And back in time

Transatlantically


I see from above

Words flying off the page

Unwriting history

It’s not The New World

It’s not an empty stage

It’s another chance to be

Counterclockwisely


2 comments:

Bud said...

Nice one. Counterclockwisedly sounds better? Extra syllable

J Blood said...

Oh I like it. Even nonsensier.