11:12 A. M.

Right now.

Today, so far so good,

what’s next is easy and planned.

So, some words,

not to fill in the time, no,

just more of the monologue.

Time continues anyway.

Is time precious?

Maybe time is precocious,

always ending a little too  early,

starting a little too late,

as if it had a mind of its own.

People are afraid of time…

that’s why schedules were invented.

That’s why some people never

leave the house.

You might say that writing something 

is a good use of time.

A Zen monk might say doing nothing

is the best use of time.

Is waiting for a bus waiting for a bus

or something else?

Maybe this poem will never end, but

at some point I’ll stop writing.

You can measure the amount of time

I’ve been writing. 

Put that alongside eternity.

11:27