The cave man foreboding his arrows & bones
like a comet, sketches time’s abode.
Under the loins of my work
I’m measuring. I’m accelerating.
I grind & my lenses
become other gravity, or lugubrious monarchies.
Where Einstein’s wrath pokes the knot
time’s noose digitizes & widens
not dimensionally, but with the elasticity
of biology. Time’s wrath ticks too kindly.