half a thought on clockwork

Half a thought on clockwork

two maybes scamper in a field
as i lie in between things. i look up from under them.
i am soil. i am grass. i am air. i am feet.
(& do not ask me how many)
i know all these people, they tell me
tick tock tick tock.
they turn to each other and they say tick tock tick tock.
i sit in between them. i lay down and pat my sleeping bag.
at night i dream my love into smithereens--
i wake up an unoriginal thought
and no new words—
is this life now the old life has died? i would ask frank o'hara and his love,
but (how cruel) to expect an answer, (how cruel), even, to answer.
the cuckoo bird never asks the time but the cuckoo bird never shows up late.
the cuckoo bird isn't even a bird, really & i am soil.
i am grass. i am air. i am feet.
(do not ask me have many,
how many, or how).