Everything Is a Clock

Everything is a clock
but not all clocks
are so easy to read.

My body is a clock,
being both the most accurate
and the least discernible.

It moves forward,
ponderous and plodding,
while also receding backward

a shrinking shadow
or an ice cube
left in the sun.

Yes, I'm going somewhere
even as I vanish,
I am the clock

that counts the future
and the past
and all dimensional states

like a simultaneous
system of variations,
an infinite deck of cards

shuffled by the stars.
I am a clock
as is every individual

mechanism of this being,
my heart is a clock,
my brain is a clock,

as each seed
within the apple
holds the potential

of time told by trees
and its myriad fluctuations
of limb, of fruit, of leaf.

Time itself exists,
and yet is only a tool
by which existence

measures itself. The river
of now, of when, of you, of them,
the theorem proving nothing.

Provocative truth teller, author of 14 poetry collections. Cat dad. Dog dad. Currently working from Portland, Oregon. Learn more at: Jaysizemore.com.

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