Line poem
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Line poem by Jacob Voorthuis
Place a placeless point where you might be and another on that tree; Measure and trace the movement of the line throughout a single day. Then, while I’m having lunch draw a line from there to the centre of some familiar abstraction like “the nation”, or “truth” or “me” or “my body” And watch it for a while in eternity. And when you next have time laid out before you, place a point at the centre of the sun and draw a line from there to the centre of the earth. It’s alright, It’s only an imaginary line; They go everywhere with little effort. (Even quite small people become virile, plump gods in the world of points and lines) And from the sun to an arbitrary point “A” in the next galaxy somewhere within its outer reaches. Let these lines do their thing for a while and let the points just be points. Imagine them lit up if you like that sort of thing, watch them stretch and bend under their own weight it’ll give a pretty pattern for a while. Now for the big one, while these lines and points are doing what they do, place a point on every person’s crown every person in this world, and the next; And then draw a line from each point to every other climb, no fly half way up to the moon, to watch, from high above: How these lines warp and weft to make a gossamer cloth, How all these lines weave themselves into a fine lace with large holes where there is no loneliness, not much. Now to make the task ridiculous, do the same for every living creature. No! Every molecule every atom then, every string. What a wonderful thought. Sort of exciting. You end up with a lot of lines. Then rub them all out except one the one between… the guinea-pig’s ear and your cheek. After all, I made that line just now as I looked up from my book, or the cat and the dying pear tree. Then come and have supper, for we have work to do; Imagine now everything, including an existing God as a single line so that there is no volume, no surface just one Dimension: Folded, endlessly upon itself to join every single possible point with every other. One circuit me and that cloud You. And that tiny flake of sunlight I saw fall upon the seagull this morning as it swam through the air, past the elm tree, shedding its seeds to be blown about and come to rest in the gutter. |