CANTO 56
Mileva Maric & Albert Einstein developing a special relativity Dark matter, dark energy C squared = the square root of E Divided by M initials carved on the wall of spacetime. Why does a drop of water rise in the channel of an inserted straw? Penetrate the air? Where is gravity? New gravity. You walk on air in your new gravity. No matter how Heavy, you keep it up-ignoring signs, moving with your heart. A new gravity, Disagree, it looses authority. Overheard-"Those people, are you One of those, too?"-A leaf, you move into openness. You have important things To do & no time for details. Live deep-summon laziness, a breeze, The shape it comes forth in. Some go the way you think they might. So a leaf in a warm wind starts out. Æolus operates, veins filled w/ sunlight. Wind strikes a chord, skirts bellow, & Bodies dance whether they want or not. Wind affects a single figure, so many measures of one scale, Then so many of another- wheatfields augmented w/backroads. Fields come to meet me, wires loose, the light harsh, I await a late bus. At rest, I stay at rest until you enter. Do you have a date? In a manner of speaking, you say leaving for the Corner Stone. Sunday night at Rodeo, down on all fours in the shoots. The grass, brutal Compared to your caress, the mint rank beside your scent, the creek's chatter Overwhelmed our words. Earth loved us. Green shadows follow the late afternoon. To my eyes, a field between two firs. I listen to grasshoppers. Their thighs make clear sounds in the stillness. The bobwhite bobwhites, and a bird called purplewreath purplewreathes. Another, purple crepe, purple crepe. The chitbird's chit chit chit's heard. One sings drinkyourtea, one, takeoffyourunderwearitisspring. I hear voices, I see visions, but no matter how disordered my senses, I'm no Fool-or, if so, in the grand tradition. Knowing all lovers change, although I'd be The Last, I try again to impress my heart in yours. Let me move w/in You by the reading of my gift. You will succeed & be acknowledged, absorbing much that is wrong. You will, by instinct, become an artist & be remembered for what is yours Alone. You've got that bod. You are sensuous pleasure & your clothes Doubly liquefactious. You were made to be laid, no matter some find that shameful. You have been given a gift by Love, to transform what is base into grace. Hand on hand, smile on smile, I think and think, I do as I do. Unhealed, the hurt hurts. Everything past was once in the future. What's next? "Tell me," you say "It's not just DNA."