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Thursday, February 01, 2007


by Robert Emmett

"The play's the thing
Wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the king.”
Hamlet 2.2

what if …

for each action
there’s an equal in return…
spins an unknown calculus

so when thoughts
fire synapses
flash neurons
stream mind
through vortex
of water fire earth
air unseeable
current flows
back equal and
opposite along
the ganglions
of intention?

what valence
of vital force
the first ruined child
with charred flesh?

multiply receptors
from the four directions
by thousands incinerated
beyond air
in marrow yet unborn
no ration of reason
can validate
no geometry of
speech can eclipse

so tell me then
how such an im-
of dark energy
from pious seeming purpose
would radiate back?
except to implode
recurrent circuits
and ignite
this endless conflagration?

Robert Emmett ponders what's at play when the king has no conscience. And scans the horizon for a pulse beyond the frozen forests of Michigan.