COMPOSITION
pass me your pen
and I shall note down
those distances
the chalk on the blackboard
having list its imperative
the writing
on the wall changing
the moment it
gets written
the truth of relativity
not yet board-dustered off
yet already
done and dusted
and how many tiny white
flecks
look like motion-
captured stars, galaxies
in their movement?
at if
squeezing
the truth out of us,
pinching our analogies
the Universe were
writing us
writing the Universe itself
putting us
into, pulling us
out oh the picture
trying to figure out
which composition
works best
which
makes the
most sense
poems 2 die for 