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A Book of Hours

 

This poem came to me after a visit to London, where I was thunderstruck by the  scale and beauty of the restored Reading Room at the British Museum. I was also wrestling with Existentialism at the time.

 

 

A Book of Hours

 

There was Time when its Arrow

flowed like a ticking clock

 

as it carved the future from the past

like a blind sculptor in one dimension

 

...

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