is composed in equal measures.
You breathe, eat, sleep, a musical score;
bars of hours, notations of moments.
Everything clicked and clacked
in reductionist order;
a natural metronome
I've never seen in anyone else.
You modulate discord,
anything that qualifies as static,
with the harmony of seconds
continually playing in your head.
Clocks tick in every room
a steady andante of sixty tocks per minute;
a perfect tempo for the slow movement
of Beethoven Seven.
R.A.D. Stainforth reads between the ticking of clocks...
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