To sweat and hide in the shadow of the Moon;
I counted cycles then the synod hit
Where Venus at her node traversed the point
Between a subtle Sun and gross Earth.
Imagine waves of music in not two
But three dimensions, expanding in spheres
About a central tonic that, as sovereign,
Authors every degree with a duty.
A mysticism clouds these simple poems;
The nonsense of an arbitrary zen
Divides the grammars and occults semantics.
A fifth is three to two, the stars revolve
About us in some diverse ratios
By which we orient ourselves in time.
No comments:
Post a Comment