Out of the Hour
by Will Mayo

When a day is like a year
and a year is like a day
and the picture stands still,
only to have the word spin
a thousand from its glass,
the rains never cease falling
and the sun is there
beneath the frame
while the moon handles the horizon
like a hand on an easy touch,
then may we go forth
in the world beneath
our own frame.
And live again.

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