consider it your found poem, silent, though as you suggest, it may be more of a found poem toy, inviting countless variations! when you're famous, maybe i'll get to be in a footnote of the authoritative biography, "Whence All That Silence?" ~ tom

Well, considering that we have books with titles like "The Unpublished Poems of E.E. Cummings," why not? How' ma doing?

well Tom for your journal

 In The Pipeline


i thought you might need this song


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W5D07c0dJuQ (The video's owner prevents external embedding)

at least for the summer at Lavallette

waves of smiles
silent lotus

Always.

--------------

 
I don't know what I'm made of but it can't be light. Light hurts
where it touches me, each little hornet leaping forward, dabbing
me with an electron-volt, and leaping back away with a Hurrah!
How I envy the creatures around me who are are dark and silent
and out of reach of all the luciferous pustules irritating the galaxy
like white-tipped poison ivy blisters—the unmeasured Black Way
the only air they breathe in the manner of God. Let there be light,
He said in the Beginning, and divided the light from the darkness
that He breathed too. What did He think He was doing? What was
the point exactly? One of those cat's-out-of-the-bag experiments,
didnt' think to put an expiration date on the stuff until it was too
late? For light could not return to being simply dark. God knows
He tried. He could transform it into matter—air, water, fire, flesh—
and then transform it into light again. Like Him, it will not weaken
nor die: He sent His only Son, for Christ's sake, see what the boy
could do—and His death managed three dark hours but no more,
and He was never to return. Lucifer, Indelible, along commands
the photons, the electrons, and though God manages to put His
hand out now and then, and rearrange the flowers in the vase,
neither does He dare to add one arrow to the Archfiend's quiver
nor does He have a place to put one should he pluck it! O, He's
sorry, everybody's sorry, but there is simply nothing to be done!




----

after Stewart Grant “Einstein's Observer” & Marc-Andre Germain “(a + bn)/n = x”


somewhere far away
the universe has               defective defective defective defective defective
already ended                          perfect
the report is heading         defective defective defective defective defective
in our direction                         excessive

the good news is              defective defective defective defective defective
the tidings                                excessive
of intelligent life                        defective
have not yet                             excessive
reached the apocalypse      defective defective defective

make up your mind fast              excessive
seven minutes of grace      defective defective defective
my eyeballs shrank                     perfect
a few drops of conjunctiva  defective
fluid fell                                     excessive

and then                            defective defective defective defective defective
vanished



---
see Stewart Grant “Einstein's Observer” www.poetrycircle.com/index.php/topic,13460.0.html & Marc-Andre Germain'“(a + bn)/n = x” www.poetrycircle.com/index.php/topic,13465.0.html