“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"

“The violent wind. The violent wind. The violent wind “
– Jim Harrison

I pilgrim no more
To the temple of storm,
Where the heart shakes
Like a fist
Against the axis of sky.

Where anger and fate
Turn about each other,
Tornados
Of a dual-faced god.

I no longer seek
Old or new testament
Of my losses,
Or to tabernacle
My wounds.

Make no mistake,
I am as capable of rage,
As capable of murder
As you,

And no more forgiving.
We walk through life’s tempest
Unsheltered,
Our garments
Soaked with rain.

Day Six – “The Violent Wind”