*
Our time was an accumulated space
no longer housed in the old way,
as space that hung at a haunted remove
from consciousness -- no. Now it was rolled up
like an old rug and stored... somewhere...
in its stored form no longer navigable
"in the old way" -- it lacked inches or feet
to bar one's steps -- now was superimposed
as recollection -- nowhere -- everywhere.
Our time had its own rules. Its pieces felt
recurrent. But each time one fell it fell
more deeply, carved a deeper hold
of introspection and absurd
craving. Our time moved darkly and recurred.
*
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