From the distance i hear the opera of a Lidl being built

We medieval children think cathedrals are external

And that over their construction we have some control

How would we know if the universe vanished?

And if we vanish how will the universe know itself?

Come on, we don’t ascend to knowing do we.

The way is down. Always down.

Also what happens when language is withdrawn?

A flattening. Language lends dimension.

And if counting stopped?

Stillness. Mathematics lends movement.

Without words and numbers a blackbird in flight from bush a to bush b

Is a line joining shapes on a canvas.

Do i want to imagine that absence?

Of course. A reimagining of a world not destroyed by words and numbers

Intrigues me.

Language after all, failed with the first metaphor.

It fixed us, trapped, between things, excluded.

It has only ever described, proscribed, ourselves in relation.

The first word destroyed the world

Because at its utterance the world became merely

Like a world

The ‘wine dark sea’ no longer the sea but a thing like a thing in relation to another thing all within a grammatical hierarchy.

A place with its own presence but colonised by language.

Now to be honest I don’t mind.

The struggle between thing-in-itself and language is a beautiful thing in itself.

It’s why art is.

It’s why I’ve always strived to write metaphor-free poetry.

My interest lies upon the tense membrane between language and the world.