Time sinks slowly to the deepest part
of the ocean, the Mariana Trench.
She's tired of light and there it's pure black.
She's also fatigued with carcasses
pf civilizations, the fleas of little lives.
She cares more for children to whom she gives
more of herself willingly -- their dance steps
do not drag. The very old are also
indulged with a few more days. She feels
abused by clocks. They were never meant
to be. She preferred us drifting through
our lives like clouds, without dials,
machinery, alarms, riding her
like the gentlest of horses.
Now she wants the ocean's bottom
to greet the unimaginable creatures who ignore her.
Jim Harrison
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