this is a poem whose page is the fabric of time picture a silvered needle and thin black thread i am the needle these words are the thread thus you are the fabric of time you see how wrong it would be to attempt a poem whose page dimension was the whole of time that would be plain silly so you are the fabric of time and hence you are the poem the needle of I stitches in the thread of these words and because you is both singular and plural you is also you and you are also you and this fabric is a quilt built in many layers time is not time in this place of virtual poems poems are still poems in this place whether you like it or not although place is still open for debate among the people who refuse to live here this is a poem whose page is the fabric of time picture a silvered needle and thin black thread
end Dan PS: extra bonus for you fixed pitch font folks
