Monday, September 26, 2016

Victor of Tennono

In the year of our lord, something
Around his seventh century,
The habit grew of using him

As a calendrical marker,
White stone sunk in common green ground
To indicate fore and after.

I have a love of calendars
As temporal maps placing me
Within the only grid I see

As belonging, ineffably,
To something purely greater than
Me. Who's singing under the sea?

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