Planets and Acquaintances

Some names I remember.

Some churn like heavy broth in the mix-master,

blend with the high alcoholic content

of a drink, or the DJ’s deft beat.

That First Life is a big white lie,

except for the innuendos,

but one tends to forget the interplay

of figures

that once were real

and had real meaning.

Instead is the illusion of creatures dancing,

styled by Callot, or Peter Breugel.

Here, though, we lurch through post-modern

versions of the Comedia,

masques of people miming intelligence,

spouting illusions of the universe in which

a broad band of planets and acquaintances circle

in abstract elliptical orbits around them.

It need not be real.

It is Euclidian, a kind of geometry

that must, with the deepest of breaths, be visualized,

if it is not to be degraded, debased, devolved

into a tangled sticky skein

of fractal chaos, whose pressure

upon this chest will be misinterpreted

as ischemia.