Vanishing Time

is when all the hands reach backwards
round the sunwheel, slicing away
chords of music we forgot long ago.

Sunwheel spins, throws tangent lines of light
drawn down into black-hole bobbins, captured
under event horizons, never seen again,

stars of past years strutting present stages
like love-letters from the past: faded notes
inviting you to an infant universe's baptism.

You can hear those notes with ears spread wide
in very large arrays across desert sands. Radio noise
and incoherent light. Garbled messages,

time spent on tangled tangent threads
chords lost by lovers under stardusty beds.

Available! High-Voltage Lines, Knocking from Inside