Human Coral

If you take a man and view him birth to death across his life
he is coral, human coral, a live thing tipping a dead thing,
a history of dead things, and two live hands grasping for meaning
and with every moment another corpse left behind,
with every moment a fresh life, moving onward

Killing Time (National Poetry Month Day 29)

Tear down the hour from the wall
drag It through the streets and cudgel
It unmercifully. Splay Its hands across
the cobbles and smash the minutes
from the fingers. Bind It to the post and
lash It ’til the seconds bleed and stain
the street like crimson pointillism.
Douse Its face in ruddy oil and
strike a spark to burn through
midnight. The dawn will witness
your ashen fingers. Do whatever horror must
be done, but strike this Hour
from my life.