Gnomon (24/07/09)

Twisting, twisting,
the sands grow dim.
Crawling down the sewage drain,
darkening minutes fail and twerp,
ditching rounds in a whistling tune.

Drown, drown
in ages torn.
dancing to a lovely tone.
Together lonely
and cracked in thorns.

Whisper, whisper,
a switch is thrown
and thus tomorrow,
becomes a song.

Once or twice,
a cry at night,
jumping in lowly joy,
passes out
in todays tomb.

Heard, unheard,
A sweet little limerick,
without a pause,
expands its lust
and hurls the dirt up to the sky.

Twisting down...
Drown in sand...
Flushed tomorrows
in yesterdays eyes...
living liveless in a ticking howl:
Then the end
is once no more.