Art: a series of confrontations and escapes
with and from our metronomic rival
Chronos, who apportions time-space in ticks and scrapes.
One time we outlasted mere chronic survival
and found ourselves in basements making tapes!
We chewed on the remnants of all that had been told.
Our memories combined in sporadic instance.
We exchanged a look of “Lo and behold!”
and scrambled to grab our favorite instruments.
And Bob said, “Hurry, Garth! Grab a tape – let’s record!”
Some friends kept us supplied with wine and smokes.
We struggled to preserve that evanescent horde
from our persistent rival’s caprices and strokes.
And thus do people stir the cosmic breeze.
Though we can’t get the best of Time, we make him sneeze!
[Previous: My Twelve Houses]
[Next: Tropes]