Time upon a Once

Progress by definition
has no placement, is no place,
no locale to inhabit, no direction to aim for,
shortened sight, trendless, segmented to an incident
on a banded ray, a spot and notch,
and they still say
'walk this line', don't trip
despite all the circular patterns and
symbols you see, dashes and
overlapping and Venn
diagrams likeness and loveless
line segments that define outcasts and
all the infinite otherness of else.

The atom and Adam were the building blocks,
it was no coincidence that all heavenly bodies
are round,
potentially the more microcosmic the cell,
the larger the body can be.
Conversely, the more macrobiological
cells seem to align and connect
the more progress
feels familiar
this
Eve-
ning

thru

crystal eyes-

ation.

Progress was just
beyond the horizon

as if it were somewhere we could

sea.


Painting By Florence Vernon (Flickr) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Spin

According to the variables,
the rules were elongated.
Black time flowed fast
on an interrupted smooth plane.
There were too many similar pieces
in play and the moved spaces
never progressed wayward
along the spherical borderline
overlapping soul and self,
Venn inside, categorically
trapped, unable to trace the way
to break the line that labels, rates
and places apart flat out
otherness, the other coin side
limited by a the double dimension
of peopled perception, angle of the arc
along the rim of the never ending
line that flows back into itself.
It's your turn to spin.