There Will Be Time

Twenty-six is not that young:

old enough to list college degrees,
linear work experience,
the promise of marriage.

By now, I should forego
bad poem topics, save
documents, rewrite the cluttered

Clay centers carved,

or is the center silhouetted,


I am on time and in time.

Urgency grows, demands
that I confront time.

One hundred visions and revisions
That a moment will unwind…