Time is so much longer than time

An hour feels like a measure
and that treasure feels so lost
in the memorial deep in the memorial

under the crypt over the body
politic too politic to get points
across from the aisle across the street

it's churches until the end of the mind
and you can't see inside from here
or there or there or there

so let the mulch become
more like mulch that's what 
the clock requires compost

until the post falls
apart and further
and further away