Tuesday, April 09, 2024

The Whim: Canto 13

13: and none can see you but with eyes divine.


Here is time now to untie all the knots

With haptic looks, glancing quizzical light,

You know the kind hitting faster than thoughts


Ever one (step ahead) try as we might

To outpace the icon around the room

With Cusa’s pals as polygons in flight


Toward this big spiral sphere still going boom.

Everything one sees sees one equally

Only not the equal you think as room


For things to count in exchange evenly

On flat ground where forgetting of abyss

Cuts everything down unforgiveably


By hatchet, axe, and saw, tools anti-this

Such as wield so-and-sos blind to real size.

I enfolding everything into bliss,


I enkindling the flame arrows of sighs,

I gravity-tuning these worlds of worlds,

I failing constantly to become wise,


I the juggler of every truth twirled,

I flirting with being myself for once,

I bewilderer inside the whole whirl.


Angle of individuation’s dunce

Is infinite, say some angels dancing

(All entities towering on all fronts)


Here atop my asymptote cap lancing  

The pupil of the heart of each pupil’s

Eyes, so tell me not who is who, prancing


As if pricked by some far higher scruples. 

All prophecies, theories are true until,

Whence the whole, all-enfolding quadruple


Is waiting for itself and waiting still,

Mortals and gods, earth and sky, the one X

Marking the spot of its own scent to kill


Whoever draws near to seeing the sex

Of one’s rose or empyrean navel.

Nobody spies me except through the specs


Of you the same oneself whose bifacial

Eye splits lover and beloved into one

None other than the image essential


Of any seeing that ever gets done

In the shadow-mirror of this live sea

From which suddenly is born all and none.


Where blood touches blood without space to be

All the way back here after and before

Such is the twin series by which eye see


Something like everything as a round door

Though which itself walks a few steps ahead

To find a blue top washed up on the shore


Of time collapsing under its own weight.