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REELING IN TIME
REELING IN TIME
O how the light films my vanity.
Through the wind on rainbow arcs,
By the rainbow she comes
My bonnie afoot to me in the parks
Her tresses twirled by her thumbs,
And the wounded wounded boy,
Reeling in the mystery of it all
The wounded and winder of a clock
Wound like a ball of swarmed sardines
Threw his camera net in air amuck
Love’s images caught where they fall
By a very dramatic sea.
Who is this boy ascending to a man?
Reels in time of wounded print
Recorded on such a nascent screen
The year’s hedgerow is lame with flint
From yesteryear’s where he’s been.
