Only Part Two: / by D.M. Jerman

(For November, and Nick D.)

It takes you.
And you are two.


II.
So simple.
We can demand to be granted thus:
Notes!
Our crumbling babylon shall still have its
notes!
Our sweet language dancing a perversion of order.
Carnival lights spelling:
As long as I write
I am light and I shall live!
Fiat Lux!
Forward with all uncareful gestures!
Our knowledge can not afford
to be hemmed neatly into museum nook
under tempered glass.

Our knowledge is a hearth.
A hot manifesto seeping life.
Ever ready to witness!
Chance is so very jealous to be you.
time-traveler,
immortal-seeker.
Lover, exacter.
Practiced and made of many!
Chance so creeping and ill with jealousy what riddles further
toward complication,
those chances
unknown even of their own volume.
Chances unprotected, intangible.
-
Hold your breath, and make time stop.
Together in this spectacle, each rumor is a special answer,
as tall orbits demand us.
To the culling limit.
A divine gesture multiplied.
Shattered rim of appearances housed in verbiage.
Punctuating seconds into seasons.
O slaked reclamation,
the particle,
the pulse!
One great perseverance
crushing negativity.
Crooning opposites make a frame, an angle, over twice-
help to dueling its own cause
with factual mannerless sweetness.

Observed from eyes to teeth-
why, every sink is a leaking sink!
Water nomadic and formless as
careening thoughts.
Themselves things that become suns
setting behind the pupil.

The telescoping orange reveals a red banded network for first stars.
Another white wide disk revealed:
The Pearl
what a thing to find which has not composed a secret for itself, though is the most hidden thing!

Again an eye
possessed of prehistoric evolutionary
vision.
No other enlightened obstructions exist but this-
The key to the theme beyond.
Measured in sky sizes- frequency and amplitude.
The medicine to wake all sleeping worlds.
Light as salt, sugar, and hieroglyphics.
Seized again by bathos!
The girl made the world by blowing bubbles in a snowstorm.
In the mediated voiceover of god, she feels the pain of portrayal.
The domestic alpha called actress.
Necessarily psychic, her salient complexities bisecting realities conquests.
Simple is not as simple as it once was.
Unmentionable vicissitudes afloat in the greeting gloss of a galactic bookstore packed with pretentious customers.
But well-wishes cannot promise notes.
And notes,
truths,
are what we must have.
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