Time Lag

 Old words resurface

on a screen, in through

my eyes and out the other

side. It seems nothing

happens when I think

it happens, there is a time

lag, sentiments expressed

perfectly seem not to

bear fruit during the

summer and wait until 

winter cold as ice creeps  

in and freezes everything.

The light startles me now

even though it is every

where I look. I cannot sleep 

at night for the light billowing

into my head, like wind lifting 

leaves and spiraling 

spiraling them into tiny tornado’s

it breaks the silence and I

cannot help but smile at the 

irony. 

Maybe I think my future so 

things I write about one year

break into this universe and 

exist within the laws of our

physics the next. My head is

the God that makes it all

real; time lags afterwards,

clutching at the floor as it is

forced forwards, neck breaking

eyes cast downwards

leaving a long shadow behind.