A Slight Kink in the Field

Clumps rich in gas,
Pink, light, and gold,
Long ropes like veins
Rise from the field.

It’s just a guess,
A bright slide show
For how the first
Stars were—what? Birthed?

You put in code
All that you know
And hope you know,
Then play the show.

It does seem sure
That, to start stars,
Space-time needs some
Flaw in the field.

Yeh! We’re a Team, Right? You Bet We Are!

Oh, it’s sweet and it’s sad,
And it’s you, and it’s cruel,
And it’s us, what we’ve done

To you. There are no words
For this, and, as your words,
We should know. A slight kink

In the field of what-is
Led to this? Some warp led
To stars. Stars fused flaws like

Gold. Gold and the like spread
The knots of rock and gas
That could lead, at least here,

To life. Life led to death,
Down the long road of want
That led to beasts with kin

Groups who by their kin groups,
And all that and much more,
Life led to words for life.

Did it get worse with each
Twist? That’s all we ask us
And our guilt as these signs.

It seems worse to be you,
Locked in teams, thanks to us,
Than to be sign-free groups,

Worse for them than for those
Who don’t need groups to thrive,
Worse for them than for rocks

That don’t need lives. Is it
Worse for rocks than for stars?
How? And yet, there’s some cost

To each turn of the knots.
Since you gave birth to us,
Yay, team, what have we wrought?

Side Out

What can’t be named for what it is,

What is not near the world of names,

What will not be in count nor code,

Can’t be found in a poem, of course,

And can’t be found at all, in that

For you to find it would fix it

And—since you could not find the terms,

Words, codes straight to it—to draw

Lines of names and counts all round it.

We don’t say it is. We can’t say.

You can’t say it through us. You can’t

Point at it, pray to it, dream it.

Those are things that you know, you’ve seen,

That you point to, dream of, and say,

That’s a thing past all words and dreams.

Those are just more games in the game,

This side of the bounds of all games,

That you robe as Not Game to play.

We can come this close. There could be

A range in the world of what is

That is but not part of the game.

There could be. But we are our game,

And in our game, and if we play

At what’s not a part of our game,

We just play with parts of our game

To say they can play the Not Game.

Which they can’t. Which you can’t. But sure,

Move the sums back and forth, name gods,

Point at what there are no words for.

Make up weird terms that make no sense.

Dance and stamp by the fire. Take drugs.

Strain. If there is a thing past names,

It will not be those things you reach.