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