after "Correlatives", by JKD, after "On a Sofa Somewhere Over the Atlantic", by Jonathan Wonham
- & dedicated to A. Grossman
To the extent that rain is its own Metropolis,
A guard stands at the iron drawbridge of the palace.
Once he crosses, we've got no luck of crossing into it.
For Galileo said:
"Rain can't ever,
A certain voice hearing, overtake running
And greet its brethren walking."
Our windows here climb upward to the past,
Going back forever. Our windows are lit
From the upward rushing future.
The stars at night we call
"The Streetlights of Tomorrow".
One day our ancestors shall greet us,
Rushing strongly upward to see us.
Say the old faith:
"I believe in Universe without Void,
In the Plenum, in the Vertical lacking Emptiness,
Filled with Touch among its Creatures."
Say the new faith:
"I believe in the rain mass in the chest