Uut

Discovery is always a crisis. It alterseverything. It demonstrates how two-headed time and how two-faced,even when inflected with excitement, apositive charge, like the ion itself wereencountered hovering there at the door toyour cave, all quilt robes and dried roses,that must forever thereafter be knownas tunnel or purpose, colonnade or coinof the realm, a coincidence you cannotoverlook precisely because you cannotstand atop it. Well. Didn't we leaveso much beneath so much rubble and stillhave room to ourselves ascend. Keen-skiedwinter whose ground is littered with trimprisms, polyhedron facts that freeze whenyou call their names, and from the skythey spring fully formed as thoughtucked there, waiting to upend your life.