Geometric Allegory

I n the Forest is the remainder Of the "left behind"orphan child. You must either let straight be straight , or set the infant child up for a rescue. The rescue itself is settled relief. It is possession flanked in the midsection, And now the tent’s wall throws the moon down into fearfulness. Who is watching over the child That inhabits Fearful fear: It is precious and valuable . On Light fires, And mold pours down; the station goes out. Beautiful! Give advice: Appoint, correct, add, let him find suckle. Deposit right! The right hand  A sea-howl... It walks. You brought Forth a boy. Now be able to convict with wine. Do well and stay together. The daytime dove, trumpet provided, knows the throw of thy hand, a hand dry Out of the stream. _________ This broken in-law Is sealed in thought. Keep silent, engraver. Disgrace taunts The Betrothal. Perforate This Net Of Burning wrath. It Flares up: Tremble Wasteland. Dry...

You see before you a series of words,  Each word being pulled from the fire and  Then hammered like totemism into a new shape:  This was the author’s objective.  cl ngcl cn... (Nobody else has figured it out?) c kxtan dtx. gx. ngcl .gxs, ngcth .xmdl (How many billions of ants?) cn cl ;t vzlck, kx.t d,byx;mk (How many marks tallied the shoreline?)     Formed from letters, the words themselves could unlock the message,  And the goal was to trace the origin of language,  To find what existed in the beginning  Before it was conquered and commanded  And shaped into  immovable type and text. g;l ;tbxt, ,sl, jchvm,k ngcl xvn - /v,lncxt r;md (I saw a movie made by an amatuer) ;tbgx. ng, r;csr;t fvln ngm,. ; z;id;h, xu,m ng, j,ti, (How do you spell amatuer?  Keep them on their towes and mispell it!  You can't cast a mis-spell." ;tk c j,,s scd, c ;r hxcth nx kc,w   In fields they gathered the fragmented scraps of smelted iron...

I’ve grown a big bushy beard And I love it. In an era where men would rather not impose, I push my bristly beard next to you. Some men are shaved. Their skin is red and raw, But I don't care for them. I like the men on the bicycles With their unshaved faces. They ride at a steady pace,  And when I look at them, for just a moment I think about colliding particles And how close we can get And how close can we be   in this human life. My beard is thick and aggressive. It never apologizes. In fact, my beard refuses to push in the chair or clear the plates. My beard takes up the whole 45 years of my face. I've earned this beard and this beard has earned its place Here with me, Grown thick and wiry and frenetic In Valhalla. It shouts "no" Now deal with it. This is my beard. My face is not clean shaven and hairless Like some young well-rounded moon. My face is hard like a Viking's sword And it strikes bold against the world. ...