In these ninety angular degrees,
ripe with books,
I'm cornered
in a wealth not even Tutankhamen could enjoy

When Lucien Stryk
in the tall floor speakers
has recited
from the Enlightenment Poems of the Chinese Zen Masters,
the silence differs
from the one before his reading

Likewise,
the emptiness is another
when he rests his voice
after the Poems of the Japanese Zen Masters

My life – a precaution! - is a take
on the flow of time;
me – like you – in essence being the Universe,
(for all practical and theoretical purposes)
turning everything around,
changing silence & geometry, as of now,
as of then (helplessly) (without further ado) (as by magic)

But reading Nora Bateson's essay
on Daphne & Apollo
from her book Small Arcs & Larger Circles,
I weep

As I lie thinking on my midday bed
in the day of my choice,
postponing my bike training a little longer,
reaching for the coffee mug,
sitting at eye level on the bedside table
to my right,
I can't look inside it,
but instantly determine its minuscule contents
by lifting it;
the amount of cold coffee
at the bottom of this porcelain silo
constituting barely half a sip