(love – 0) / no Lim
Math equations of the heart — Newtown scrowls his brow and and unoutravels the mathstuff from the spacestuff — there is nothing new under the sun but think of the world that everything is forever falling down into the heart of it until out of that falling and banging around magic popping starts and hyrodgen slips into helium and helium into lithium and beryllium (shine on you crazy) and boron and magical carbon, we’re just real big pencils aren’t we, and strange dark oxygen, that’s a sharp one —
so falling together, into each other’s arms, into the centers of suns and black holes, and then exploding out again, god laser light shows, we’re just little people aren’t we, fleas on dust floating in the darkness — tahu v’bahu, and this beautiful world belonging to us —
passover is over, god’s passed on over us, breath upon the waters, toilsome, fastsome, haply God-Dad heard our sissy crying, but kept on going, not wanting to disturb the learning process, eh, eh, up, u.p, you fearful fearsome jesuit, Telemachus, 22 when I read it, 25 now, soon to be 26, inauspicious, double trouble, twice over since I’ve been brought within the Secret Covenant, and joined the Nation of Priesthood, in the past, I’d be barren, a Generation of Apikorsim Epicureans failing to procreate.
I worked six days, then rested in the garden, and the next day had to fire the help for stealing some fruit, damn slithery, ahh, but who can blame them, little kiddies, curiosity kittens, oh singingglass oh singingglass.
Old John Wesley Harding, in his high-up mountain canyon, but get mighty lonely sometime, especially these days, doesn’t get too many visitors, for surely not, hey not even sure if he’s up there anymore, yeah, we tell stories of him with fondness and smiles, only smiles for dear Old Missing, but who has time to stop in and share a cup of coffee —
I love life. I love it.