precipitation I

drops
fall
drums
beat;
bead
after
bead.

hm?

maybe it's time, it's time, passacaglia
maybe it's time to forget about the dead cats and the mercurial fish;
maybe it's time to forget about the threadbare mythologies of your own juvenile conception
maybe it's time
maybe it's time to shelve the disfigured face
of the stranger and the long-fought battle between night and day
maybe, passacaglia,
it is time to dis(re)member the mechanizations of your mind and heart for something new
and to sit still for the longest time
instead of waiting for that fogridden signal
from the lighthouse etched on a misconceived heaven

who knows?
you know?
we know;
maybe it's time
maybe it's been time
for a long while,
for your sake and ours
keep that in mind
passacaglia
for a dime and a quart,
will ya?