ALL OUR ABSURD
WINDSPENT LABORS
You cannot reach me, willpower baffle,
overspent crusader, darling fluorescent.
My absurdity has (long ago) been acquitted
of any crime. Letter-writing, that ancient craft,
itself seems over for now. Ten times ten the
years must change - and only then will things
return...to what they, as they, were, whenever.
Outside, the high clock tower rings its tone,
Trying to tell me something. We all turn deaf.
WINDSPENT LABORS
You cannot reach me, willpower baffle,
overspent crusader, darling fluorescent.
My absurdity has (long ago) been acquitted
of any crime. Letter-writing, that ancient craft,
itself seems over for now. Ten times ten the
years must change - and only then will things
return...to what they, as they, were, whenever.
Outside, the high clock tower rings its tone,
Trying to tell me something. We all turn deaf.
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