Sous Rature

 

Michael Peters

 

 

 

Poems of Comet-Like Text (or Periods) Arcing Across the Paper (left to right)
from the Spacious Margins of Meaning, Pure Conceptual Lines Flaking Off

 

1.
when axioms described the world
stars were thinkable
(an unthinkable space in god)
spheres carrying the fixed within it
nevertheless,
the theory was finite


2.
error when we reflect//the world
hereditary fault shall never be
in other words, the real possibility
to discard the meaningless quest
& the principles of mystery


3.
impossible, another ball of geometry
reason, infinite, rolling
how rational exhibition
denied our ends, insufficient
ascending to the birth
of verses, through its more
though we wait, to scale


4.
“remove the festering metaphysics”
she argued, for a feral theory
unite or infinite
discovering objective empires
space is a limitation
if we cannot insist on being


5.
I used to watch from the dome
with machines kicking at its it all-the-while
but you never even noticed the stars
as if your conclusions still have the right of way


6.
text must become the sky after the unhinging
in being, finite within white limiting boundaries
instruments, tongues contend the accepted diction
the universe, might be a discrete line—
or a sentence


7.
such conclusions were radical
but if taken up, open to a however in them
here, they’re integrated into bodies of sleeping children
forced to the inequality of unknown wielders
how is sleep, then, passive?


8. 
a universe mirror for novel newcomers
actual infinity, devastated without limits
the relationship appears comedic
valid, fetal


9.
shimmying in the gaze of it
intransitive pronunciation, accosted
etymology of the black-formation forming
bloated white stars from prehistoric dates


10.
this absorption = chimerical or practical
herein ideas of dark wool gathering:  its quality
but being twice as slow as clock time
quantamatter accumulates without its measure


11.
so much, so far, the instrument is in a whirlaway
eat, speak it in mouthfuls and in vibra tonics
keep reading—
here, the bolus of infinity is real
             & it is what you want it to be