OF TIME And the long twisting road out of town is what he wanted to be on. His heels kicking up dust and his lungs inhaling the escape from the Banal. But that was yesterday, when he was as delicate as a shrub. Through the wrinkles of the years, he's wept inside. Too old to cry, and have them say something unintelligible. Adjusting his cap, he takes a step, and strikes a match against the wall of time. -- James H. Conway, "Extended Wings: New Poetry and Prose/Rathmines Writers"