Sunday, February 10, 2019

All My Clocks. by Doc Sigerson



All my clocks crouch 
poised in disagreement,
no two sharing the same face.
Threading disparate points,
as if dodging traffic cones, 
I navigate my day.
But ach! Predatory clocks, 
preparing to pounce, 
like cats upon prey.

There ought to be a law.





Doc Sigerson lives in the Seattle area. He is a military veteran, works in retail, and leads a sedate life. He has had the wonderful fortune of having his published work disappear when online sites lose their domain rights and the terrific good luck to have his printed work fade to obscurity when those publishers would rather buy cannabis than cough up contributor copies.
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