And with true Gallic verve, the French bomb-making physicists scoffed at my idea that the quantum realm infiltrates our reality, gives it scare quotes, mystifies its imagination, lets us believe in a physics of absurd probability by virtue of the, quantum field interface with the human brain itself
how could it not do? makes perfect poetic sense
if we involved in it got to reek of paradox
of sudden vision of an alternate state of affairs
possibility of a very different world free of the thought of species suicide, sudden annihilation
those weapons gathered, harvested, taken and trashed
meanwhile back at the ranch, or in the City of Lights (whole thing formerly odds on doomed to evaporate in a single blinding flash)
that whole caboodle, despicable, cosmically ignorant, arrogant arrangement drowning as the Seine leaks in floods the bottom of Rimbaud’s drunken boat
in that alternate universe I now so many years after the fact fondly imagine myself now placing them in
the latter best not from a drip or medicine dropper
if if is essential to preserve the mythology of most favored of fan favourite precocious outlaw
Oh yes, let us take a poll on this side those who might suspect the drunken boat sank on this those who would steadfastly argue it is there if you would care to search for it safe at its Seine mooring
but you yourself were a veritable personification of resistance to tethering
and now no longer with us bond boundaries and bindings do appear everywhere
the colours of the vowels have lost their surreal charm along with former deep saturation
we should take a plebiscite to see if in this impoverishment poetry might survive
and you so word- agile reduced to a meme expanded to an entire semiotics
