[Eclectic/Electric] a Poem

 

I never wanted to act directly on our time,

only when hindsight has claimed it,

as it claims man’s structure;

 oh of the woebegone the woes

left in the willows of the muted cries,

do I see its savior-wisdom

We are permitted by a certain physics of a certain time,

drawn to an electricity alternating through an impasse,

 eclectic intonations from our moans

 still in the mausoleum of our minds,

extension given by nostalgia,

where reckonings drift heavy back to us

-from [Leitmotif]