22 February 2009


Like transhumant Pyrenean shepherds
my thoughts at times nourish in lowlands
revolving about quotidian physicality
such as whether Cajun seasoning works

in adzuki bean soup simmering on my hearth
or whether Roncal sheep cheese
will make my palate zing

--make it zing and zing.

At times my mind migrates upslope
to nourish seasonally at montane heights
on alpine meadow flowers and forbs

of rarified thought
such as whether black holes sing
or on the topology of the Universe,
whether space curves back onto itself
returning to where it all began

with no edges or ledges falling into nowhere
and whether as it circles around
it sings

--circling around it sings.

I’d like to think that spacetime,

matter, light, and thought all sing
as they zing upslope and down
and round and round.
And, like alpenglow at dusk and dawn
irradiating empyrean heights in lights
of life and thought flowing up, down, around
in a knowable Universe of arcing shape
that thinks, knows, and sings
--it thinks and knows
and knows

as it sings and glows.

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