Tireless
Form
Josh
Nash
The
pendulum dully swings shining,
Drafting itself in tireless form,
The hands skitter in portions,
Pointing fingers in direct time.
Glinting bundles of carved oak--
Dusting in the swiveled stream--
Only gleam and glare mutely
At the bearded seasons that
Drain dollops of sputtered rhythm unhinged.
A palm crosses another in hurried
Worry, the ticking-tocking sways and lingers
A moment more amid the seats and fire.
He glances, then swoons with the binding hour,
Paling flesh frayed into wisps of air.
The keeper tallies the minutes endlessly,
Evenly spaced, the seconds and
The human realization, evenly meaningless.
***
Josh
Nash is a frizzy-haired, efflorescing poet inspired by Whitman,
Kerouac, Lowell, Snyder, Hafiz (the Sufi master), and Native American
poetry. He is eighteen years old and currently resides in rural
Sumner County, Tennessee.
©
Josh Nash