A requiem for march still lingers

Today, the lake is steel grey and washes inandout (of me),
first saying yes, then saying no to tossing words about,
just like a text machine in ebbandflow.

Today, time is a watch that counts the crunch of steel quotes
shoved up against cement into a slam of headlong hieroglyphics,
sprayed across the wall of all my wordless thought.

Today is soaked in singularities, pastandpresent futures
stirring synonym solutions from inside the sacred slide of tea leaves
slipping up the curve towards the lip and then the spill.

Today is stretched within a sling-shot fling of seconds,
tugging taut awareness at the throw-inside-the-roll of every gesture
lost in lettered left-or-right presupposition.

Today is backlit by a film that floods my eyes with lists of
metaphoric moments, spliced into a reeling rush of Alice-allatonceness
like the backandforth breath inside a crashing car.

Today is layered like a stack of slides in aporetic super-imposition,
image-slices sandwiched into lessons-learned and stuffed inside
the crunch of every buttered bite of something-seen-before.

And o,
another and, another goal,
another toss, another roll.