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

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