Dave Bonta's "Timekeeper" is about trying to hold onto time after it has slipped away, and about wanting that time to mend something. The speaker starts by tampering with the clock, boring holes in it and calling the result chance, as if breaking the machine might loosen its grip. Then comes the image of keeping a month or two "like water in a boat": the speaker carries the past around, but it threatens to sink them. It is also "black with every particular of home," so what's stored up seems heavy with memory and perhaps grief.
The middle turns to "fanatics who cry up death," people who refuse to pay for time. The comparison to a road we can't afford, even though it's only "ordinary dirt," suggests time is something basic we shouldn't have to bargain for. The ending is quieter. The speaker builds the house higher and saves light, a patient, practical gesture, and admits a simple longing: "to see time heal." The mood is wistful and strange, uneasy but ultimately hopeful.