The problem with daily planners

is that they can't ever anticipate
how much or how little time you have
for getting things done—whether

one square is enough, or several
pages. And how could anyone know
what the weekly, monthly, or yearly

spread looks like, except in review?
But have you ever had a moment
that suddenly telescoped forward,

during which the scene you were looking
at sharpened, clear as clairvoyance, though
you'd never experienced it before?

At least a couple of times in my life,
I think I was given the tiniest glimpse:
part of something before it happened,

before my mind could understand
what it was I was looking at; of someone
before they entered the actual field

of my connections. Across a room,
the angles of a face uncoil like a nautilus,
a hidden sheen of light flickering inside.

How to speak of the ache from being inhabited
by time in this way, even then, knowing there's
nothing I would do but keep walking toward it.

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