he lived
in time zones

of time zones

every thought he thought
(like this one)
a time zone

not the same
as the time zone he utilized
for this thought

for that one

he wondered
in another

how loud must it be

if each
made its own sound
zip-ping its way
to oblivion

he wondered
if ever there could be
at a crossroads
a roundabout

dead end

a convergence

he wondered
whatever happens to them
all the individual
time zones

and he wondered too
whatever happens
to yours

might they meet his
one day

happy day


happy day


Poem #363 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction

4 thoughts on “zones

  1. interesting thoughts going on here.
    Back in the stone age of my memory, I wrote a poem called Venus Flytrap. It was all about how lines or thoughts just fly about for anyone to snap up. If you were not quick enough of paused for a second to think it would get snapped up by another.
    Your poem today made me think of that. The concept is an interesting one that you have written.

    Liked by 1 person

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