There are such hearts to remain
Inside; I circle this knowing, connecting point to point,
As direction accepts itself. I conduct this orchestra, see…whole
Gaggles of violins or kazoos. We sit circular
On our patch of grass hereafter. Random synthetic
Synthesizer reduces us to giggles. I pass the salt shaker
To the guy sitting with himself on the ceiling. His shaking
Opens him and opens sitting spherical. The vibratory remainders
Move all of our fingers to holding. His synthesist
Inclinations recline on all of these fold-up clouds. Point?
Yes, or yes—many. Roundness sufficient to circulation
Of the waking dream. We are all! Wholly
At the catered brunch on the most fragile landmass without holes.
Salt shakers, tablecloths lower themselves to shake
Above the table, then drop. The waiters are circumspect—
In waiting only. We dish up our own. What remains
Ends in the dog’s bowl. Nothing being lost. The remark pointed
Learns pointless. And carries it everywhere. Synthesize
Your globe and share and please don’t push synergy.
A few of us already folded our maps. We’re happy. Holistically
Speaking, we can all hug if we hear the ground shake apart from itself—point, counterpoint.
Point by point we compass encompassed. The Shakers were moved to shake.
The Quakers made oatmeal and waited for speech. Speech remains
Outlasting consciousness, translating each utterance. Listens beyond listening. Circles
When we land. Circles when we hover. I learn to circumambulate.
I do that when I’m happy and never bored. I like synth
With soul. To sweat over it with my careful heart and remain
Inside conducting four-four time. Re-figuring the holes.
I’d like to shake all the hands inside their shaking.
The hands of musical time point
To enfolded petals and stars held buzzing in place, on point.
The feast continues in the encirclement of circles.
Laughter catches at us in losing nothing. The sound shakes
Into the next shape: a deepening concentricity as safety. Whoever mans the synthesizer
Probably laughs too. The map in my pocket isn’t whole.
Not yet. But remains.
The circle arrived shaking.
O synthesizing O synthesizing hole into whole.
In pointlessness I hope we may remain.
