The sound of the dog's pawsteps move away at the precise speed of his shadow. Nothing is blurred. The bullet tumbled toward the girl's head at 1250 feet per second. She wasn't the president, you say, too young for politics. Despite theological gooseshit the gods don't keep time in light-years. We're slowed to the brutality of clocks. Listen to the alarm. Wake up. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 17. A LOVER'S PLEA by THOMAS CAMPION THE CASE OF EDGAR ABBOTT AND PHILIP RIDD by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS AN ARAB WELCOME by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 9. WHEN by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) MEDITATIONS IN GREAT BEALINGS CHURCH-YARD by BERNARD BARTON THE DOUBTER'S PRAYER by ANNE BRONTE TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. A SONG OF ONE IN OLD AGE by EDWARD CARPENTER |