Yggsdrasil has a big brother
the Tree of Alternate Realities
whose branches my degenerate form
swings around amongst gleefully
seeking some place to fit it
as the melting Dali Clocks
slowly block me out
from moving into realm
where time has indeed
run out.
Yet it does not seem to matter
those branches of Time lost forever,
where the worlds are all charred cinders
slowly cooling down from the flames
that made them once so hot
as to fly off store shelves
into the hands of geeks
who like me sought
release from the mundane
and piteous lives we lead
in books.
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