where we lose count
time does not slide
to drape careless
as yesterday’s coat
over the back of a chair
or hang on a hook
that process of unbecoming
is a measured but uncountable thing
in a landscape where colors run
and paint is not paint
but stained glass
throwing light through canvas
The Persistence of Memory, Salvador Dali, 1931
Tagged: Dali, poetry, surrealism, time
