Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

In step

Time
it is said tritely
marches on

its cadence
precise as any
honor guard’s

mostly.

At times time is
less a rhythmic beat
more the tuning
of a cheap guitar

MY
my my dog
dog
has – HAS
fleas.
Fleas.
fleeeeas.

my.dog. has. fleas.

Time occasionally
stumbles,
marches on,
always finishes
the parade.