a heart to heart

the time has come to speak of what is not
to talk about the things that will not be
discuss the shores of the imagined sea
and speak of the exigent nonexistent plot
fit no tab into what's just a notional slot
refuse to count either thought or silence free
dig for no rounds around the non-world tree
to all your tasks no sum of time allot
that which is there is not there at the last
the present does not have an ounce of being
speak of the future it will never come
and nothing matter's once it's in the past
what's seen will not be measured by the seeing
and no beat comes from the imagined drum