This poem plays with the notions of patience and urgency in a whirled that can be crazy, like berserkers crying for help. The tempting insanity of joining the frenetic pace of crazy can’t just be brushed off, as some sane response must be mustered. This may require some adept and wise intuition, even daring, even when a full grasp of the situation is impossible.
A Madder of Time
A madder of time
As patients in sane asylum
Crazies running the whirled
Well
We aren’t
Going to wade
So much too due
If you are wandering
Get intuit
‘for you can’t
Simply no
