Line poem
Line Poem,
By Jacob Voorthuis
Place a placeless point
where you might be
and another on that tree;
Measure and trace the movement
of the line
throughout a single day.
Then,
while I’m having lunch
draw a line from there
to the centre of some familiar abstraction
like “the nation”, or “truth” or “me” or "my body”
And watch it
for a while
in eternity.
And when you next have time
laid out before you,
place a point
at the centre of the sun
and draw a line
from there
to the centre of the earth.
It’s alright,
It’s only an imaginary line;
They go everywhere
with little effort.
(Even quite small people
become virile, plump gods
in the world of points and lines)
And from the sun
to an arbitrary point "A"
in the next galaxy
somewhere within its outer reaches.
Let these lines do their thing for a while
and let the points just be points.
Imagine them lit up
if you like that sort of thing,
watch them stretch and bend
under their own weight
it’ll give a pretty pattern
for a while.
Now for the big one,
while these lines and points
are doing what they do,
place a point on every person’s crown
every person in this world,
and the next;
And then
draw a line
from each point
to every other
climb, no fly
half way up to the moon,
to watch,
from high above:
How these lines warp and weft
to make a gossamer cloth,
How all these lines weave themselves
into a fine lace
with large holes
where there is no
loneliness,
not much.
Now to make the task ridiculous,
do the same
for every living creature.
No!
Every molecule
every atom then,
every string.
What a wonderful thought.
Sort of exciting.
You end up
with a lot of lines.
Then rub them all out
except one
the one between…
the guinea-pig’s ear and your cheek.
After all,
I made that line just now
as I looked up from my book,
or the cat
and the dying pear tree.
Then come and have supper,
for we
have work to do;
Imagine now everything,
including an existing God
as a single line
so that there is
no volume,
no surface
just one
Dimension:
Folded,
endlessly
upon itself
to join
every single possible point
with every other.
One circuit
me and that cloud
You.
And that tiny flake of sunlight
I saw fall upon the seagull
this morning as it swam
through the air,
past the elm tree,
shedding its seeds
to be blown about
and come to rest
in the gutter.
