Simple Theories

  YOU  who stand whole and apart.  YOU  who pass here, extended vowel. A commanding voice moves slowly. A place remains in a word by name of cloud and freeing. For  YOU some time will be no time, somewhere nowhere. For  YOU  the eye the hand the foot the time.  YOU  who lose perspective of loss, one tree at a time. The holy place had been made. Telling is the spell. Go then and tell your tragedy.

  Chaos and generation of gods. Swirling into place. Fragments of the tablet remaining, reminding. The abyss also had not broken. Centering held. No law but that of strength and poverty  remains. Polis poised in process. Sprung from springing, language hasn’t been so bad, long and chill and stiff as a rock. The rock bears a voice, a sketch of time, an eager immobility. The holy place had not been made but found about time. The place holds the love, the people, the person, the love. Being fragments of the tablet, of the words in garland. In this place and then every, eventual perplexity of chorus.