These perfect strings, unbowed and yet singing
the music of the spheres, a symphony
of light on folded fabric, light that drives
all things before it endlessly and slow.
These ancient seeds to ride the crests. They ride
the troughs, they fold themselves inward and hard
against the nothingness, they fold themselves
and wait, only a flickering, sluggish spark
banked well against the ages. Given just
a bit of damp, their fire rekindles staid,
deliberate, an epochal reveal
unfolding, filigreeing. A chaos
from old, entropic order they distill,
life prised from mathematics’ bony hand.

1. 
   Theriomorph 2007 07 24 at 11:26:41 am

   Beautiful.

2. 
   Not Impresed 2007 07 24 at 5:22:10 pm

   boring.

3. 
   Hank Fox 2007 07 24 at 5:50:46 pm

   Internal Monologue:

   Oh, great, now what do I do? This is a beautiful piece of writing, beautiful imagery.

   But I don’t understand it. Is he writing about yucca trees, which I know he loves? He talks about seeds, sounds like from some low-rainfall area. The banked spark and the rekindled fires, that’s clear enough. But what’s that bit about unbowed strings? And the folded fabric bit – something like, um, those bilaterally folded spearlike leaves of some desert plants?

   Old, entropic order. Hmm. Mathematics’ bony hand. Hmm, again. I’m getting images here, but can’t see how they relate. Maybe I don’t know enough about yucca brevifolia? Or maybe it’s nothing at all to do with the yucca. Crests? Troughs? Folding?

   Maybe I’m just not smart today. Tomorrow the meaning will slap me in the face, and I’ll go “What a frickin’ dummy I was!” And I’ll be glad I kept my mouth shut.

   Crap. If I write anything at all, and I miss the meaning, Chris will think I’m an idiot. I’ll look ... common. Crass. Dull. And I do so want his respect.

   Plus, maybe he’ll be insulted if I say the wrong thing. He sent this delicate verbal origami out there, and I stepped on it, squashed it like a bug with my dull thuds of commentary. 

   I should try for something artsy and oblique. Pretend I get it. “Hey, Chris, that was super cool! I’m totally tuned into you, dude. You and me, we’re the elite on this wavelength, huh? – Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.”

   Hmm. Well, when all else fails, go for honesty. Or, uh, silence. Yeah, I should just sit this one out. Keep my mouth shut. That’s best. Yeah.

   ... But then again, this is ME. Nope. Can’t resist. Must. Comment. Must. Bare. All. Argh.

   I hope he takes my tweaked sense of humor into account.

   Am I really gonna post this? Click tongue. Don’t be a pussy, just do it.

   Oh, god, now what happens? Cringe.

4. 
   Theriomorph 2007 07 24 at 5:57:08 pm

   Ha ha ha ha ha!

   That was awesome, Hank Fox.

   Panspermia is actually the yucca that comes out of the goat legged god of Greek myth.

5. 
   Vince 2007 07 25 at 10:06:55 am

   That’s one fanciful remedy.

   http://www.nytimes.com/2007/07/18/opinion/18wed4.html?_r=1&em;&ex;=1184904000&en;=f11bf8ceb42b9eb3&ei;=5070&oref;=slogin

6. 
   LauraJMixon 2007 07 25 at 2:04:37 pm

   Wow, Chris. I love it.