Space of Days

in the blaring silences of surrounded
eyes in the back of heads
with clinks and twists and scratches
a chuckle, then a gulp, a gasp

and every wrinkle in time
is a space with no rhyme
with no rhyme
with no rhythm
with no rhyme

constant changes, evolving, motion
yet stillness, awkwardness, silence
(laughter, conversation, blessedness)
the wandering, the wondering

and every wrinkle in time
is a space with no rhyme
with no rhyme
with no rhythm
with no rhyme

days of death, and days (of grace)
the space of days in every nook
and every space, every block, on every note
time has escaped, glaring, and there is no chance to say...