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Poetry

Nietzsche’s Dancing Star

Nietzsche’s Dancing Star

I. “Svidrigaylov laughed out loud.”

“Questions of motive” like air sweeping dust under a rug.

A joke heard out of earshot— a ghost of whispers ask

Are these capacities for “reason” and “probability” the same? Define your terms as “True” and “False”

You are or are not. Nothing between but an unkempt bed.

II. “Svidrigaylov suddenly laughed again.”

You who are no drunk.

A glow neither light nor dark; a space neither black nor white.

He who laughed with creation. Who?

Stand. Remove your shoes. Walk to a corner and plant feet like seed. Will you remain through this wind and rain and sleet? Let soil take hold of skin.

A blooming. You are and are not.

III. “Svidrigaylov raised his head…”

Out of darkness came light. A lamppost disseminating light at noontime— do you notice?

Something like shape: the shell holds no purpose without substance— yolk or white?

Branches like branches, seed like seed.

Reconciliation: a pulse unfelt.

Do not shy away from sin, raise your head to breathe deeply, bring these scattered, dead leaves into your lungs.

IV. “Svidrigaylov went on his way.”

Question a journey of seed— to move is not as important as dirt and rock.

“Questions of motive” rain upon fertile ground. Will you raise this plough?

Amongst the circling of straight lines

You will find the cradle you outgrew.

Your words “remembered” in static, song and savagery.

To turn your back upon your face— which now faces you?

V. “Svidrigaylov pulled the trigger…”

Will they announce your arrival? like seven trumpets and a gate in the heavens—

And you who do not know what it is that must be done, let these seeds float upon the wind.

Some of these ideas are similar…

You who does not claim. There is a boat and a paddle, there is only possibility. Rehearse movements and empty your empty readiness.

Addendum: “…and he could not get past Svidrigaylov.”

The folded cloth set out upon the bed speaks. There is greater flight in leaving memory like residue around the lip of your cup. Lay yourself to rest upon a table with two legs, you ever stumbling container.

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