Light Synchronizes Infinity

MAY 23, 2012 1:27PM

By the Light of the Illuminated Guillotine

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The real world a mask 

of mathematical strangeness, 

every number line writhing with preternatural 

insanity,

the crocodile lisping equations to a Pharoah

just before the sun 

delivers the infant Moses into the wisdom 

of the Moon,

and history assembles 

the theory of evolution 

in the Kings chamber

as dark as the soliloquy of the undiscovered God,

when.

*

A chirp of cherry wood, the human heart broiling 

the soul over the brain, 

wild primitive bonfires bursting out of the tongue 

across the threshold of a stage 

shaped a philosopher's skull, 

every nucleus erupting with those ghost stories

so often told 

by old women and children in the kitchen 

late on some autumnal evening

when there is nothing left to explain,

save the quiet madness

that ends in terror, a smirk and the sight of the stars

rising into the night as if they were broken glass

reassembling.

*

And the whitecaps of silence, cresting in parallel thoughts---

I ?  You?  Who knows?  A million words trembling on the tip of a tongue,

the strange dance of eagles

lifting through the bones

as civilization describes itself to entities whose names

were given with no warning,

lives bursting through the soil,

into shopping malles that hum with exotic paranoia,

a spaceship trapped in the suburbs,

full of plastic plants 

designed by what men for what purpose? 

*

Bougainvillea, the oldest divinity stalking 

some jaguar puppet on the amazonian floor,

a rare hunt of lichens, 

lemurs leaping into car chases that have no solution,

just the endless revolution of 

extinction, like the dragon itself shrugging off 

memories it cannot explain.

*

To live in the light of the guillotine,

illuminated by one's own ghost smiling,

moment by moment,

the blade falling through the skin 

like the tongue of God licking it's own wounds

in the silence of the unfinishable creation.

*

Linear causality, the great myth;

the universe billowing in Elements, 

Hydrogen Curtains, Uranium Prayer Shawls,

Golden Threads,  a Shirt made of Oxygen,

cloaks cloaked by the naked flame of the endless thermodynamic 

paradox,

the perpetual motion of perfect unresolvable stillness

spiraling through the white noise 

of Now.  





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