The Third Real Transition---Physics, Anyone?
all the books that had been thrown
at him from rips he caused in the fabric of his universe only Thoreau and Jesus ever made the slightest bit of sense to him. there would come days he would not eat or that sleep fell in a rockslide of logarithm and he put "the" in front of words in
order to increase their importance. all the scratching pine trees that had been burnt in Australian forest fires (for
hadn't that been in Melbourne? or?) and the illness that overtook all the cedar trees leaving them as cold as some world waiting for creation and he walked late at night far late at night when it was not night really but only dark and dusk till dawn trapped in the window ledge over which a Frenchman would fall and bring down the feathers left behind.
and the little girl in the park walking her dog said "in the thirties all the rich Princeton boys were not on genius or the scathing memories of any War but there is a way for life. and way for life is indelibly memorize. you know of that? you know of that?"
she knows he is standing
the dog strained at its leash
(and) the little girl walked for home whispering some song about dimes. about scientists that were not crazy and because
they were not crazy no
body believed that they had an ounce of genius. he
and the world was suddenly ending which was his watch beeping from his wrist to announce he had crossed over one last barrier and it would be true morning soon or false morning where the light was not hidden behind the back of a head the shadow of hair:
so home he went home
he went and gathered
the books from the terribly amazing rip right in the very focal point of his continuum where a world passed by undisturbed by men
falling from window ledges where taxi cabs did not drive themselves where physics was a great starry eye falling one scale at a time into a garden of figures that are people were statues were people are statues
"and when Newton locked himself up at the manor writing his prose of why the world did not suddenly break in abstract shards and make Picasso happy with himself or falling in love with a Swiss mathematician because you can do calculus while the light shines of his teeth and he can snap at the air. in China a butterfly will fall is that not the prophecy?"
little girl with her little dog been in there for a while then? he had already let the landlord know an aberration in the structure of Space and Time had occurred in his kitchen but try getting a squire to speak of any
thing but horses or how some "people" put unnecessary spaces b e t w e e n things and the world(worlds)World became
or word. that was another book falling in like a leaf blown across state borders or narrow bodies of water. this time it was Galileo or a book by Keyes on the way the world could be a building the eye of a nonchalant pigeon fluttered out of the way while a man fell forward to the pavement.
"Monetary loss and Major Depressions are wonderful ways of testing the truth in physics"
and I am
somewhere between the space in his kitchen or the
part tossing him books crying "the Elbe is rising and all those Rembrandts will be destroyed soon!" Newton was nothing but biography and Locke was all but insult. there is only poetry in great men and the tragedy of living just long enough to find tragedy in just living long enough