Winter Figs

                     

Deep in the snowy woods
the comic realization
that I am asymetric;
the left boot goes scrinch
and the right, scrunch –
or have I been making tracks
so long that my walk’s become a clock
beneath the laden pines, tic and toc.

We are all asymetrical of course;
and clocks just go tic. . .tic. . .tic
Your brain has such longings for order
it smuggles in accross the border
that toc – and the heart isn’t
a duty-free zone either.

There is no apathy within, of course
we love much the way we sprout thoughts
in a mindfield… ineradicable weeds…
processes…being. Even the coolest
mathematician may be subject
to violent passions…indeed he is
perhaps the most vulnerable.
A man who toys with infinities
is virtually god’s familiar.

 

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