Iridescence

by Christos Polydorou

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If yes miracles.
If no twelve months of winter.
Impenetrable etymology.
Spray me with all the tomorrows left,

with a single
whale spray.
Shall we?
My darling, we drink so much,

it confuses us. My dear,
we have seen so much,
but really we have seen so little.
The cosmological and astrological

realms are origins of becoming. The neutron stars,
the gravitational waves, even the rims around some black holes,
gleam and glitter
brighter and brighter into being.

Where do feelings,
thoughts,
flashes of genius come from?
This is my bow in my one hand.

And in the other,
a violin. I am from Germany.
I am a theoretical physicist,
but like everybody else I am struck with periods

of otherness, as if the very room
I happen to be sitting in alone
changes significance
according to me transforming within it.

Within the world in which the sun was centric,
a world was built in which the moon was centric.
And then within those two worlds
humans built worlds in which they were centric

to parallel worlds in which foxes are centric
to revolve worlds in which petrels are centric.

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