GENERATIONS Copyright (C) 1997 by Not Nice Music
II. A COLLECTION OF OBSCURITY by Edwin M. Drogin

72. Untitled

This shimmering sphere of light
that casts its broadest waves throughout
the night.
Into the days a humming sound to call
the minds attention through other avenues.

Pulsing lights were dreamt of for some
special reason.
Perhaps to call to mind the heart,
perhaps for sordid reasons-Commercial world
will seize on anything.
And gold is its symbol. Shimmering sphere
that beams its lights. Choose green. Perhaps the
forest blushes at the choice.
But then the sea in lucid moments holds
wildly to the distinction.

What mind has reached through natural aisles
to pluck an abstract city of complex torture out
of color shape and form of whispering grass?
When builders rear such towering fantasies of thought.
What if I pull the steps out from under? Down. tumbling
down, comes house of cards. Index cards, and data sheets.
Observe, but only see a towering imaginary line, imaginary
point, imaginary perfect circle. No tracery
of leaf, no throbbing vein,
No ivy twining, twisting, up, and filagree.

You hypocritical fool.
Worship your formulae and then go home and scoff.
Back and forth. Fondle the slide rule.
Hand in reports and dance
a maddened jig of wonder
at the number falling into place.
Does nature count her leaves-and stop and say
one too many I have made today. Throw down the leaf
and count anew?  Ah, no. Interest rates
and x and y. Symbols of symbols of symbols of symbols.
House of cards. Abstraction ladder, reaching into space.
And yet you conquer! Universe grovels at your feet.
Or so you think.
Understanding. Understand is to conquer is it not?
Answer me! Is it not?
I understand, I under, I un..........
Leave me be. The world is free. Grammar is a rule
like any other. And then, can flower express? It gives off scent
and we can smell. Would not the fact I say it prove
I love it all beneath? No hypocrisy except to write derision
of my life. Back to the formulae-maybe some day a turn of the crank-
a local joke- produces another stride-Backwards or forwards? Another
question entirely. Rich? Gales of laughter back to what
was mocked so long ago. The world has you in its claws. Chains of gold.
Escape? No you can't. Sigh,throw up your hands, and back to work.