Tea Time

There will be time for all
That when there is no time at all.
When the when becomes
A useless inquiry and the
Extension of space is a completely
Different matter. The matter
Is at hand and the hand will
Spin and splay away
From its body and not feel it
But still know, or not know it and
Still feel.

Teatime will be all the time.
Bedtime will be a dream, a
Pleasant far off thing that
We used to do in those days
When we had days, and
Some days were long and dull
And some were nice—those
Were the days—though I
Wouldn’t go back if you asked
Me. The mountain is only
For climbing—who would
Descend except Christ,
Who walked down, everyone
Patting him on the back
(or they would have if they
Had hands—material hands)
He walked back up the hill
And died there—reverse
Purgatory, reverse Eden,
Reverse damnation.
Then the Father sat with
The Son at the Eternal Tea Party
And the Spirit hovered over the
Surface of the hot water,
Warming himself
Before entering
The hearts of men.