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“After 120 years of puzzling, mathematicans have mapped out the most complex abstract structure ever conceived, a 248-dimensional representation called Lie group E8.”

Alex Stone

I wouldn’t want to live there.
All the unknown invisible spaces
so tangled up you couldn’t ever
unwind them. Today’s illusion:
blue squares, wood floor,
adagio currents of afternoon
billowing out white curtains.
I could triangulate the dullness:
rustic, soothing, wide open sky
in this houseful of clocks ticking.

I could write zen one thousand times
across your imminent departure.
Or roll my life down a hill of the future.
Late summer lightning, leaves
falling red, winter writing on glass—
consider how beautiful it would be:
simplicity picking up speed,
the one note filling the room.

I know I could walk inside that sound.
If I did, I would carry nothing with me
and if I bothered with love at all
I would lift it and turn it under light,
make sure it had emptied itself of emotion—
that what I held was wind born,
a kind of driftwood I could look at
and leave behind.

Instead I fumble for my spirograph
key, insert it into a spirograph door
that may not be yours. If on the other side
you hear me, feel your way along impossible,
through curvatures of distance
curling around us like waves.

©