Lyric and Narrative Time

I know sometimes I make up
names for things that might be
known by some other term—

Once, I gestured from the crown
of my head to somewhere 

at the end of my diaphragm,
saying Vertical time; by which
I meant all the ways in which

a moment feels either stopped
in its tracks, or many moments

that suddenly organize around 
a single  point: sand filaments
forming a starburst or corona

around a magnet positioned beneath 
a sheet of paper. All the while,

the minutes tick horizontally
onward: the minute hand 
moves from five minutes to 

the hour to the actual 
hour; a horn sounds the punctual

schedule for a drawbridge to lower
and then again to lift. Lyrical
shaft of sunlight cutting 

through glass before 
the shade is lowered.


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