Time is simultaneous; so say some mystics. There is a sucker born every minute, says old P.T. But it feels like there is no time left for either/or. We’ve got ourselves by the throat. Our long knives are drawn and poised. We’ve been born every minute in sync with our death. How do we unclench ourselves from this dream? Caught exposing ourselves in public places, We stand accused on the coasts of time. The sun rises and sets according to how we face, And the two oceans rumple the sands at our feet with recurrent hissing____________
Free, condemned on shores of balanced flux In the silence of a thought— Our hearts also, stilled between beats, Minds go white—-
In the silence of this thought, All Time Is Simultaneous (1987)
My Chapel by the Sea 
That’s pre-Christ! It’s all new with Promise now..and life ahead! He arose.
That is an old poem from 1980’s. A good composition. The LOON, under it is much better, 1995.
Pretty good -considering you had 26 years of editing 😉
I like putting out old stuff that still has juice for me. The last edit was about a year after 1st draft. I’ve performed it in readings since then, though. LOON and WALNUTS FALLING are more representative of my stuff over the years.
Thanks for the comment though.