Slant is how best it goes when it knows not
wither or why it goes, truth or not ruth,
entertainment or catastrophe, yet
slant’s elusive as firmament’s first fire
was there a first photon or were all and awe
then self-entangled, then, as now , caught in
the net of nothing stretched impossibly
to bear being beyond themselves, ah, light
yes light, this light, slant, makes sight and shadow
the worrisome wisdom of our delight,
the fierce fervor of our burgeoning fright
as climate changes, so our climax, too
my self, illusion, to itself is slight
and slant as well, star, lost in its own night