Not Mincing Words

In this world of dreams don’t let the clock cut up your life in pieces.” 
– Jim Harrison

Clock hands
Hollow-ground like knives,
Sharp and thin as seconds,
Make mincemeat
Of the hours.

Today we feast on time:
Seasons, thyme,
Suet cut from the loins of day,
Marrow spooned out dawn to dusk.
Vinegar of want.
Broth of baby's breath.
Birth dates, wedding days,
And reason, left answering
To the sun.

Grab yourself a fork.
Belly to the bar.
Feed your dreams a slice
Of humble pie.

I'll cut.
You pick.

"Mincemeat" on @Wikipedia

"Pyes of mutton or beif must be fyne mynced & seasoned with pepper and salte and a lytel saffron to colour it / suet or marrow a good quantitie / a lytell vynegre / pruynes / great reasons / and dates / take the fattest of the broath of powdred beefe. And if you will have paest royall / take butter and yolkes of egges & so to temper the floure to make the paest."

Day One, "Vital Updraft"

14 thoughts on “Not Mincing Words

      1. I sometimes think the poems I’m least certain about are the best. If I work them into my comfort level, they lose something. Possibly the edge. Your poem had so many great moments that I couldn’t pull one or two out and say “favorite.” It just is. …and that’s okay!

        Liked by 1 person

  1. Jet lag serves you! I have to read this one a bunch more thymes, maybe frame it and hang on the kitchen wall, right beside the clock. Favorite lines – ‘loins of the day’ ‘vinegar of want’ ‘feed your dreams a slice of humble pie’ – but I really love that pre-Elizabethan reference that uses ‘great reasons’ in the recipe. This is outstanding!

    Liked by 1 person

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