Broken Arrow

Only there is Now. There is no
Then and When. How Zen. How then
know we when to show
ourselves? Our Selves: those little Men

inside our Minds machining
Time, fabricating patchwork panes
to stitch and mount in a montage of what We've seen--
bad grammar that: We see, that should be. Oh, the pains

We take to stake a claim on Space.
Such a queer little race.