on an evening in the soft infinity.
The sheeting rain outside
is a comfort and a warning
while I solder in a copper tangle:
connections from the future to the past,
with an insulating bypass round the present.
In the stormy world outdoors,
bright cascades of lightning challenge
my pretense, until a sudden surge and roar
redacts the copper to smoke and honey,
and a circuit breaker trips.
Before I find a candle,
an electrostatic glow precipitates,
and a human virtuality
with a crown of stray corona
suggests a rainy drive.
While I guide the rental vehicle
according to a sum of squares,
my electric passenger skims
a careless stranger’s diary
forgotten in the glove box.
thought is overtaken by another.
Loveless platelets flow through
veins of avenues,
while messengers tread
the broken footpaths.
Perhaps they started traveling
by accident or habit, but now
they want for nothing,
their destinations long forgotten.
In the city square,
the children of technology
are marching in their raincoats—
the seekers of their yesterdays.
For me, there’s not a drop of solace,
no consolation prize.
I expected a perfect world—
Plato dancing mambo,
his percolated coffee
made of atoms of itself,
bonded by perceptual unity.
But here the skies and seas
are made of dust,
and in the ancient distance,
the landscape into fallen
This world is a mistake, nothing
can be done; it’s always been
too early and too late.
Would the finder of my diary
kindly contact me?
My passenger chats electrically.
The hope of every seeker of the past
is to open windows in the water panes,
and passing through,
find innocence again.
After I have gone, I’ll be sending postcards.
You may pretend that one’s for you.
One morning of the soft infinity,
a card comes in the mail,
blank and unaddressed.
Sum of squares: Euclidean Geometry, my favorite.
Corona: a partial electrical discharge at high voltages, often from sharp points.
water panes part above