And All Around, the Withered
I total the numbers printed
on passing boxcars,
multiply by seven, then add two,
subtracting every third odd number,
only to find, in the end, myself
tethered to this empty platform,
spelling hapless with integers,
acknowledging Zahlen and
the infinite. Sometimes gravel, too,
calls to me and I observe space
in the path’s patterns, constellation
stacked upon constellation,
multi-dimensional galaxies
expanding in one swooping arc,
heroic eagles and exploding stars
complicit in their deeds and forever
locked in sequence, yet when I explain
my vision, the words emerge
as convex polyhedrons or inverted,
drooled gasps, and people turn aside.
That boy’s two bricks shy a full load, they
say. The lights are on but nobody’s home.
“And All Around, the Withered” was published in Steel Toe Review in January 2017.
O at the Edges 
This one is as demanding as it is evocative (maybe it is the rigor it demands within the framework of its quiet lament, which serves to evoke my compassion?). Hmm…
Yes, the visage of eternity (though some may share an innate — if not hopelessly muted — apprehension of its existence) has yet to be successfully described and conveyed by most, if not by all. Oh, how it would advance our species’ general capacity to imagine and implement peaceful answers to cultural strife were this not the case!
Even the language of “Zahlen” — seemingly as much as that of words (the phonemes we’ve subsumed, only to eviscerate them of their onomatopoetic purity in the interest of binding them into wieldable forms) — which I think must get about as close to escaping humanity’s self-defeating nature as will ever be possible, too often falls on “withered” ears.
I’m trying to bring my reading of this piece home to some grand, articulable conclusion, but the words elude me. Suffice it to say, though the limitations of all my senses are undeniable, this poem moves me to try to listen.
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As usual, I don’t know from where the poem originated. It shaped itself, and the narrator’s voice became clearer to me, through multiple drafts over the course of several weeks.
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If you would permit me…I love this, can I share this on my blog…??? wow
Such array of ballistic words
I felt like a world war of words happened before my arrival
The letters in trance hijacked my heart
Sealing my weaknesses to a halt…
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Thank you for your kind words. Yes, feel free to link or reblog. It’s my pleasure to share.
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OK…thanks
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With his numbers on the carriages adding and multiplying, and his simple and realistic observations, I felt as though the lad was Autistic.
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I don’t know about “simple” (more like, anything but…), but the observations are certainly incisive and profound, however inexpressible. Yes, I got the sense that the narrative voice indirectly references Einstein (who’s been posthumously diagnosed with Asperger’s). Also, I hadn’t consciously made the connection, but my son has autism, so this could be another reason why this one resonates so for me…
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I think we often walk by brilliance without noticing it.
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Exactly!
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I just love the way this flows… and the way you’ve made images explode in my brain while reading each line – love that sort of poetry ❤
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Thanks, Jo. You’ve made my day!
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I think we all play those games of conjuring (although most of us keep it to ourselves…) (K)
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So true!
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