Horizon

Flat face with a ticking wrist
Where timeless hours end up late,
The fading look that dials insist
Will ex post facto fate,

A spider in a shining net
Woven in the rearview mirror,
The future resting on a bet
That brings infinity no nearer,

Here I lie without a wave,
A nation unaddressed,
The morning’s god, the evening’s slave,
Age’s goal and history’s pest,

Flaming cloud on distant sea,
Cyclone sky of beams and birds,
Island far away from me,
Burned with light and dim with words,

Green with space and blank with time,
Tomorrow and today combined,
Endless as the smell of lime,
Before myself and worlds behind.

Redone Tropics Bar, Waikiki
August 28th, 2005