The Sands of Time

I was riding on a horse backwards through time
my clothing changed as I went until I found
myself in armor jousting some unknown
challenger for my lady’s hand and I
would have rather died than lose
her; how could sport be made
of love; the cruelty of man
knows no bounds but
what was I thinking
of to find myself
back here in
the court
of this
I was once
forced to serve
by oath of fealty he
did not deserve; his colors
black and red I wore until a poison
ring brought him to his untimely end
and I became a ronin wandering aimlessly
and tilting wind mills and stopping highwaymen
dead in their tracks in their attempts to harvest a
living off backs of travelers they know not but nor do I
my sword in those medieval times was my only companion
I wandered East and became a Mohammedan and put my Viking
self into the service of the Sultan of the Ottoman; I swear anything
to relieve the boredom of Suburb Burp as Harriet was wont to say forever
and a day sealed up in her attic where we would paint together for hours
and have our garbage parties to celebrate the artistic qualities
of the same I’ve ridden my horse too long and his leg has grown
lame;it’s time to put him out to pasture and I’ll do the same
but I’ll walk from here to the promised land beyond
the horizon of this universe beyond dream time
where my aboriginal clan waits for me
with open arms of eternal friendship,
my henchmen, my tribe hunting
through the sands of time
for any shred of truth that comes along
like flotsam bobbing in the ocean
we know the whole damn thing
by heart because the entire
forest we pygmies of Ituri
not but a single tree
is our home, all are
free yourself
to roam and
never complain of
loneliness again
the bird sings
out with
shrill cry
on the bare
branch of winter
belying the spring
we know will come along
just as it always has and will
and our work of planting has just begun
blithe spirits everyone who danced with me
until the dawn of a new day had made a run
in the stocking of the goddess of the sky and we all
came home in the wee hours of the morning drunken
but for the horses who knew the way; we lay my armor down

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