THE WATCHMAKER WRITES   A WILL          by the sill   a pitter  and patter  spattered  like a choral clatter  when Time    in tatters    tread on in   and made my silence   all ashatter     NOTHING   said he   is to be   left   undone   so    with limbs atremble    and mouth resigned     my pen begins to run     TICK TOCK  TICK  TOCK    TICK    TOCK it runs first to   the son   to which my work is done  but  my scorched scrawl is hectic   my mind succumbs   then    the wailing  overruns   the quiet is quelled and  my wrath  is wrought   the staying of  my anger  fraught   then    from my desktop fortress   I arise   TICK TOCK  TICK  TOCK   TICK   TOCK prepared to launch  the first  attack   I glimpse my words return  to black  watch  limbs  lurch  back  and sinews  crack   a dirvish whirl  paradisiac      there is no logic  I  decide  in falling into  regicide   since after all   now I see   this kingdom's king   was never  me    their skin is cold   and so desire  a  godly  touch   to  give  them  fire   a loving stroke  to kindle my kin  and  ignite  from within  the motion    of  their lunatic spin     they spin they spin with such  divine  wind   in ode  to me  like a mortal sin    TICK TOCK  TICK  TOCK   TICK   TOCK so much time  I have spent   a lifelong crime  to repent  for now  I forget   who is god   who is servant?      I must  regain reign over body and brain and open  my eyes relieve  the strain     I beg the compass   to be my guide     its two hands and twelve directions remind me   of  its insurrections  a patterned promise  which needs  no  corrections     calm and steady  I  will  finish  what  I  began  to  do     which  words  wish  I  will  to  you? TICK TOCK  TICK  TOCK   TICK   TOCK ticking  a tock  and stopping  a clock  are one in the same     start   by removing  the gears  from the back of  your  head