Just A Twelve Inch Poem by chris schwartz

Time is your merchant
And it's a hard call
When you ain't got the money
To pay
To keep you
From inching past
Starving
On this great earth.
The Gods are angry tonight
Flashing lighting
And I don't blame them.
The dustbowl
Of our planet, it too,
Comes calling.
Past the bright sun
Of Mourning
And the calm
Dawn of a bright new light
Lies the soft cashmere
Of fabric
Woven from each
Of our plights.
Sometimes,
I think I don't matter
But then,
I know, that
The seasons
will provide the answers
On the sandscape
Oftime.
On my great love affair
With this journey
On my short ruler.
It was just a solid wood
Twelve inch.