Kevin Hadsell




The clock is a curious device that foretells our doom, the gears grinding their iron teeth below the clock-face, ticking off the hours.


The hands of time twisting circular in the glass, the hands that point to a time when the watch stops, when the clock-face freezes and time is left frozen upon the wall.




The watch is a clock

chained by iron manacles to the wrist,

that time may follow us among the trees

and mountain-slopes––


So the watch-dial can tell us of time

wound circular around the wrist, tightened

as we gaze into the watch-face and

see our own reflection,

the face behind the watch.



The sun is a clock whose watch-face burns the eyes.


The earth and moon are the ticking watch-hands in orbit.

This is the clockwork that counts eons,

celestial watch-hands twisting around the sun-dial

somewhere out in space.

Euphemism Campus Box 5555 Illinois State University Normal, IL 61790