the intake at the start, jet-engines in
the stone age, the oxygenated awakening,
the half life of fatigue, the entropy of process
Steve says that it started with naming, it started
with creative taxonomy, with the demarcation of joy.
language like joint compound on brick, like Pollock
in a paint factory. the creation of referents, the weight of
context hanging albatrossly. who has more power – the one who
creates, or the one who points to say
Babs said it was dark, light, wet, dry, crowded, delicious,
empty. Adjectives forming a mass of suffering, a pain
fashioned only from qualifiers, Progressing through
qualities only to be slapped back into nothingness.
As though our inflation needed qualification.
Lauren said, while no one was listening, that a kind word
spawned the start of sin. Salmon leaping up waterfalls. It was not.
It breathed too hard for airless sin, taxonomy
it was not the start of samsara.
after the bubbles percolated, it respired.
1 comment:
This poem resists me, which is a great start to anything.
I'm not ready to articulate my feelings, but rest assured that I do have a few and that I will present them when they're ready.
That said, Lyrae has some pretty crazy ideas about the intersection of science and poetry that jive into your aesthetic, but I think you already know that, non?
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