faith in the middle

BOOK II
DEATH OF A SUPERFIGURE

faith in the middle


29

we really believe
in the stocks
in prisons
to uninhabited islands
in concentration camps
inquisition
to the extinguished streetlamps on Strastnoy Boulevard
Adam's apples
to books and their contents
to the casemates of Destiny
to the police cars in Vertkovskaya at 03:00
to Ozymandias
to Esau
to Mr. Ubiquity
to poetry
to Big Slaughterhouse
into the art of being a prospector
into taxes
into innocence
into sin
into old age
into passion
into death
as if it were all
really
exist
or at least
could have the right to
to exist
exist at all


30

one step to the left – firing squad
step to the right – firing squad
step backwards or forwards – same thing
stand in the center, don't think about anything
merge with the brick walls
so that afterwards you can just as silently take the blood of those
who left the night limits


31

Commandant orders us to attack
Commandant orders us to wait for reinforcements
Commandant orders to open fire on his own men
Commandant orders to shoot himself

the field of existence is cleared
A lonely Totem in the steppe
waiting for new sheep

for them to be overcome by miraculous hallucinations


32

the triangle is defeated
the square is besieged
the rhombus carved out of the universe
the cone is left, as best we can imagine
of the death of something dear to us, given to us from birth
but it too is being dragged to the guillotine by Pluto and Mercury
soon Saturn will take up his favorite cause

but I'm off to my last duel

«The Time Lord Versus the Tesseract!!!»

the audience is in full force
full house, no tickets
online: 7,000,000,000
this stream won't be long

I'm pulling the plug
it's all gone, like the horses on my desktop
in the corner of the screen, by the trash can

so the Geometry of Rhyme loses to the Math of Addition

---
like a good triangle you must divide by two
like a good square you must know that decay begins at the center
like a good circle you have to bend straight lines into a ram's horn
and finally, like a good hypercube you must endlessly strive into yourself

the eugenics of numbers, the hermeneutics of geometers
the simplest of mathematical calculations, the simplest of problems
there you have it all, the world's poetic hoard, your ugly repository beneath
the Dragon of Knowledge