No One Can Save Time
(Spring will not be rushed)

Pump thy arms dear savior.

Nothing will alter the books.
Blessed be thy name my
luscious time, you are garden
and I am helpful orchid dressed
in the curve of belly against well.

Cream dries on our cheeks after
fast when strawberries redundant
clash at the border with police
their raw wounds opened reveal
last prayers when benediction failed.

Martial Songs have driven hoary winds
aloft to orange thrill as they, pointing
fingers, blame the soldiery for pain.

Watch, every second masters space
to unravel faster than light. Darkness
and brilliance sunlight and hell have
no armor left to shadows near end.

Every Amsterdam street, lined true
with affectionate trees blends again at will
to let the supple flesh raised by bliss
drive oceans to the shell of Mars.

Mystery has many mouths and children
driven from the banks of Great River
Hudson swim against flood and resist
the easy escape from our Terra with
small time pledged to hold it all in place.