Watch's Face

with thanks to Mina Loy

Whose eyes blur
face time in whirling circles.
Needle-thin minutes

spin, cingular rings
round cohesive anatomy
of disconnected seconds.

Sects of breath reject
each other’s rich witchcraft,
Watching for the errors
their era will aver—

Speak, spoken, spoken to,
broken arcs of time’s
miscellany and moments
of madness

Who regresses sits
atop the apex, amid
lucent truths and silken sex.
Again the circle arcs and peaks,
the needle’s gap lapsed—
again the stolen epoch reached.