Canto XXXII

Canto XXXII

Crossed harmonics is what it's called. That place where molecules and atoms are so unsure of providence. So null is created. A place to start going upward, into the crystalline lattice with something more than a jack-hammer, or less. All the while mere sound (attenuated close to the frequency of thought)is all it takes to exterminate man rodent. But it isn't costly enough to count...to keep pot-latch in place in the economic scheme Machiavelli tried to avoid announcing. Places were set aside to be little more than null.

Ed Storm found one, there in South Africa. But his love and profit over succulents wouldn't let him leave it alone. And he wouldn't gracefully bow out when his officers cut off his supply...there in the diamond zone that had no diamonds. Did his wife plant delicate cactii on his grave?

Then there's one in Mexico, and here in the US (I won't tell you, you've better things to do with life.)

We all had the one in Siberia loudly announced close to the beginning of the last century.* *When you start out, sometimes you screw things up...just to learn to get them right. The hydrogen bomb was that way, a little side step Oppenheimer tried to discuss. And when both USSR and China had to take their own terrifying view into parallel dimension, the New World Order suddenly became expedient.

But the stupidity didn't stop. My uncle's engine transported all the way South. Placed in Lake Vostok, near another of its kind. Simply to see how bad the havoc can be...like with A.I.D.S., the ultimate sign of the times.

Then there's the thing in the circular mountain range in Utah (the only circular mountain range observed...even on the moon.) Perhaps I'll tell you about that, when I, Dimosthenes, discover something new to love about you.

Center Point Passed

Nothing mattering is not delicate.

Even dog slaves of Rome feeding swine

with their dead...

Have the tears of you or me.

No one has the right to blot.

Whether truth, life, hope...

When does the diminuator become

the executioner?

That first step sets the inevitability. 

Ivan Grozny was taught to be amused

throwing dogs upon rocks one hundred feet down.

Lovely little lesson to bestow compassion.

To but be relentless, more in mistake than might. 

Now we haze, we brandish women as trophies, we

Count merit with poker chips.

And we gauge how far we've been by how much fuel 

we've used. 

We would approach stars that way, and their tender

satellites.

Why we are Wormwood, misnamed for wormfood.

The last hour approaches the last station to get off.

Copyright April 2001 James C. Horak