Not Eternity and Not a Void
Time is in us and alongside us
but isn’t us
though the clatter of our heart
is also its clock
It is measured by our steps
but like the mythical messenger
light-footed Iris
always moves away from us with an unknown message
Someone might say
it stays close to us like a meticulous accountant
watching capital assets melt away
which willing or not
we must use to the end
Perhaps nothing in the world
is used with such wastefulness
or such stinginess
as time
But princes
ignoring their obligations
order it out of te way
Didn’t Baudelaire say:
It is free tim that made me great
trans john and bogdana carpenter
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