The universe must expand, the baby
Spiders swarm, the gamma rays Emanate, not because of themselves But to show the core of the maize, The empty core where thought begins, And then consciousness expands And fills black interstices of space And silent speech is formed by hands That the banana trees are not just there For themselves, that the fireflies Are burning the signals of invisible Emptiness, intangible prize.
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The impulse to swing out the arm
Of the Milky Way, the space Between two neurons, the breath Of the horse and the steeplechase, One tells a story, the other Is a stone; one is a river, A xylophone, the other is A movelessness inside a quiver. They need each other, the mammoth And the ironstone, the quartz, The glitter of the sand and The string of Dodecanese ports. At the core of the core,
There is nothing more to say, And everything wants to be said, The hayricks of Monet, Blank cards (the ones that Were supposed to carry The instructions), the yellow Sheen of the canary, The coiled energy, the string Shimmering, the less than String, wave without water, Then no wave, no grid or plan But beauty, steel, immutable Will and song, love and Crashing seas. And down below A shiver along the strand. I spread out into the world
I am the world spreading out Matter spreads out and creates Space, space creates a tale about Time, about a bird and a spring, Alexander spread out, Rome, Genghis Khan, deserts spread out, Swamps, forests, veins of chrome, Spreading or spinning or swirling, Until someone, something, asks, “So what?” until the atoms bubbling Out of foam repeat their tasks, One quark is a miracle, ten trillion Are a bore, ants crawl, ponies trot, The horsehead nebula in magenta folds And still and all from slightest jot, Spiderweb to cactus thorns, jumbled Cloud, Mandelbrot sets, apricot Skin and pit, van Allen belt, so, Wheat fields, lion ants, so what? |
Yaacov David Shulman
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