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THE ZERO THAT IS ALL If these lesser things are subsumed within the GoodThese corrupt shapes: desk, mirror or treeThe falsely transliterated, strangely planed Creatures of eyesight and the sentient bones (Themselves in the web of the spider), then all times Are poses of the one actor, Time: he Who is ape of eternity, and the acorn neglected among leaves Encircles, now in this very heartbeat, a forest Of oaks that have no horizon; and the still white egg On the tablecloth in the hush of morning is turbulent With the cackle of a universe of chickens; And still it is hot noon on the sea Tethys Where the protoplasmic slime begets Aphrodite Whose belly is history till the moon falls And the last spore flames like Andromeda. [~7] ...

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