My old banjo clock used to run for eight days straight, but now it stops after only a few hours. I carry it to Rick’s Timeshop, where several hundred ticking, tocking voices mark eternity. While Rick peers into the innards behind my clock’s face, one of the cuckoo clocks on the wall chirps out the hour, accompanied, surprisingly, by the sound of water running over stones. Thoreau’s dictum—time is but the stream I go a-fishing in—rises to the surface of my mind.
cuckoos counting out the hours of my life by a babbling brook— I steal a dipperful of silver
Among the haunting images of animals—bison, bear, and spotted horse—painted on the walls of caves, human handprints catch the eye. Careful measurement reveals that most are the hands of women. Could they be maker’s marks?
firelight dancing on the walls the sister I never had touches my hand
I am happy to announce that as of the Winter 2014 issue of Skylark: A Tanka Journal, I will be the Reviews and Features Editor. The submissions window for that issue is June 1 -- August 1. For details on how to submit books for review or articles for consideration, please click here.
