Wall Of Clocks Poem by John Parsons

The modern sundial strikes seven.
It is dinner-time
Here in ancient Devon.
It has a bird-like chime.
Next to this clock on this dark-
Colored wall is a million more
Of them. They all bark
On at least the hour. Like a door

They open and close
Marking the demonic passage
Of Time. Midnight's their favorite pose
To cast their sorcery in. To bring a message
Of Doom in all its forms.
Like a hall full of academy dorms.

(16 June 2008)
(Justin, Texas)