The chimes
gently clang, clang, clang,
inside my mind
Feeling fine with the sublime
To be everywhere, and nowhere,
simul-time
My voice calls out, but falls short—
drowned by the hustle, the bustle,
of city lines
Where mimes reflect rhymes of our crimes
Ask them, they will tell you,
if you have the time
Fleeting focus,
lost the locus,
take a breath—smell the crocus
The flowers know us; nature too
Ask them, they will tell you,
if you have the time
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The Ragged Journal 
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