Simple Theories

  Fragments cited in Deity voice. All such words, signs, bones, rocks, pieces, increments. When daylight grew, kiss on the sky, love light like that. Abetted in the garden, that pace together. When does death mean anything? Space unemptied, vocal, a rhythm just a breath. Our hands forever holding. Dithyramb, then, in a position of agitation and excitement, so much so. The god, so called, beyond words but with them. Words so called, they called. It happens in a moment, telling peak. In a moment, so, or beyond restraint. All a-twitter deity, busy in the blur. Whatever music a poem makes, the ear hears, body feels, or never so lucky as sounded. Aristotle said it is the nature of the products to be better than the activities, but he was racing. The field fills with tall visual grass motivated to movement by the breath of wind. You are there in a moment. Deity passes.

  The stars were then great, there, as perspective. The sky, great, hung there in scudding relief. Ocean news and great. Land close and far, great. The things, so many looking strong and important, were great, cardinal. The sensible voices spoke, rang, plodded, seemed intently literal, great. Each event fell into time. Looking hard, in need, still and great. Feeling inspired to be inspired, in need. The imminence of sound, which always becomes speech, looked needy and great. To whom speech, and from whom, or what. Alignment in circling serious, now then there where. Dance could strike up, like noise. Noise frames instance. Promulgation stirs. The stars are great, serving. The sky is great, the grass is great, the water moaning is great. Bring sacred taste along the lines. Bring that step dance while you’re at it. Great as great is great, each word greatly greater. In the end, you may begin, great compact lit.

  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.

  Holder of shiny rock thru time, Engaged of modest green frenzy, Statutory given of solar light, Certain war frame increased, Seraphic belch initiator, Stunning riverine acquirement, Active regalia barnstormer, Haptic detention responder, Filigreed transport forestalled, Future fence of fame, Conditional clatter relation, Spots among the eyes, Teased tensely verbosity, Half the heck of hanging on, Purest comma in the sentence, Apocalyptic strobe, Moonbeam on oak leaf, Status crowing, Under ending on top of it all

  That grain, seed, granule, presumption, of sand. Sargon fabulous in increase, a force in shoes. The world with legendary names, and sand. Proprietary, as well as sand. Ashurbanipal also. Reaching for the force of sentences, even-paced word at a time. This was, but now always. The earth bears the splendor of this bespoken. Sargon reaches for the speck, the crisis of need. A tiny withholding felt by all. The stridulous moment, unbending, allotments: a forest for the fate of cities. And so what passes for people beseeches what passes for gods. All that Ashurbanipal in one human containment field. In this calculus the sand seems perplexing, merely a world before and after Sargon, who lived before and after something Nebuchadnezzar. Sargon hustings, sorting, picking, scratching at words tabulated long ago by stretches of impulsive brilliantine illuminated on a map amongst galaxies or lesser grains of sand and standing. Knee high in neap tide, as the music note by note scratches the ai...

  An alert presence inside word. Your scooper will scoop a golf ball-size orb. Orb as large as comparison fits a sentence, and then true denial. Orb Of Cracks on Surface along with Expectation Of Pasturage In The Morning Light. Allow a brief homage to the clerical detail that fancy offers a fence around which. And in proof of verity, in proof of singular station, in signal expanse of the orb’s flat side, direct the legal sunshine to the proper phrase. This orb then is now, parity to and because of. So holy then, a tent in the blessed state of having climbed a tree. Rinsed in the cackle, fomented by jurisdiction, pleased by social broadcast. An exacting spoof undoes the undoing, and in so doing, starts again.