The sound of the dog's pawsteps move away at the precise speed of his shadow. Nothing is blurred. The bullet tumbled toward the girl's head at 1250 feet per second. She wasn't the president, you say, too young for politics. Despite theological gooseshit the gods don't keep time in light-years. We're slowed to the brutality of clocks. Listen to the alarm. Wake up. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 10 by EZRA POUND CONTEMPLATIONS by ANNE BRADSTREET THE BLUEBIRD by EMILY DICKINSON ARIZONA POEMS: 6. RAIN IN THE DESERT by JOHN GOULD FLETCHER SONG TOURNAMENT: NEW STYLE by LOUIS UNTERMEYER FELDMESTEN OR MEASURING THE GRAVES by ALTER ABELSON |