Geometric Allegory

Part 1 Maybe you’ve heard of The Infinite Monkey Theorem. It goes something like this:          I f you take an infinite number of monkeys           and give them an infinite number of typewriters, One of the monkeys will eventually,           quite haphazardly,           rewrite William Shakespeare’s masterpiece, Hamlet.   Word for word, If they’re given enough time,      I t will happen - With enough Monkeys, Typewriters, And time. l,im,n ixk, And what of our bodies? And what of our spaces? Eventually, The same can be said of everything: Every single atom we've gathered From across the universe and beyond, From all that we see And all that we don’t see. Everything will implode And collapse in that glowing, fiery crucible Where finite moments restructure themselves And form into a newly minted seed. Given enough time,  We all melt into a seed And all that ever was Hardens into this l

before time  a flow of words moved  through the multiverse as  vibrations in space,  frequencies searching for some  detuned radio  capable of receiving  the transmission of consciousness  Before time,  consciousness itself moved  through the universe at 4 trillion  times per second.  It was a vibration in space,  a specific frequency that spilled  out into the stars,  searching across every planet  and across every moon,  for a form of life  biologically equipped  to receive its transmission.  The consciousness was like  an infinite monkey,  and as infinite eventuality necessitates,  the vibration found its way  to a detuned radio  capable of receiving and transmitting  the great division occurred precisely  in that moment when  pure thought felt hunger,  and he knew he was a radio nonetheless,  a radio capable of transmitting consciousness  As pure thought,  the vibration pulsed through  the vast universe and brought  Its message to every star,  planet,  and moon,  always across the

At the Harker Valley Ranch located in Cloverdale, NY Dedicated feeders learn their craft. They know the controversy, But they need the money And have obligations to their families. So they erase the possibility of pain And continue their artistry. Theirs is a skilled craft. They snake long plastic tubes Down birds' beaks and finger the "crops" Which are kept constantly full. This is the same for 21 days Until the harvest. Then, And only then,   The ordinary livers taste like butter        And become culinary treats. Meanwhile, the discerning foodies Exchange recipes And eat. ************** DAMNATIO AD BESTIAS: Four separate tiers make up the Roman colosseum. Each tier balances, one upon the next. From the outside, the amphitheater is a neat stack of           American-eagle silver-dollars One set upon the next like a  Bruegel -themed wedding cake . At the Colosseum's base, The cardinal points Mark the circled square: The sy

I sit in the garden and watch The bees buzz from flower to flower. I know them as angels,  As little specks of yellow fuzz-and-stingers  Carrying the magic pixie-dust  Needed to keep the world alive.  The bees are, in my mind, great alchemists  Mixing different pollens To create new fruits.  I too am on an errand for my Father, And a collection of cosmic space dust Clings to my knees. I bring Him pollen so that he might have  What he needs.  It is not uncommon for some of those fuzzy angels  To stumble and falter at my feet.  I watch the dying bees  Labor and breathe And flicker and fade.  Always I wonder what was my role in this?  Should I sit back and watch the scene unfold,  All while doing nothing? ' Do the bees have a right to their own death?  Did they own the suffering, the lameness, the asphyxiation?   Or, since falling prostrate at my feet,  Do they want the ultimate mercy?  Perhaps there is no answer,  But I step on bees.   The design shapes us into what we will become,