Four-Dimensional Commute

We never start and never cease

Between admittance and release

Onto and off this highway-road

Down which we haul our psychic load.

So why, then, should I make this date

A special one to contemplate

The destination and the route

Of this prolonged 4D commute?

Nothing meaningful has changed

No friend's life ends. Mine's not re'ranged.

Tomorrow will match yesterday.

I've changed in neither mind nor way.

No new semester, nor change in season.

No hint of meaning-bearing reason,

and since I find this day's not better,

I shall not write another letter.

Why They Don't Let Poets Amend the Theory of Relativity

I sit, impatient, pen in hand,

But don't allow the tip to land,

Afraid to move or make a sound.

To move could hurry or drown out

The ticking tocking on the wall,

That dullest time machine of all,

But moved or still, I step alone

Into the arms of time unknown.