The Only Man Left on the Flat Earth

Of shadows and sunshine; I know the point of the light,
Vision and heat and a stop for the nothing of night,
This weather has a plan to save the rain from the river,
But this dream first has some sleep it must deliver.
The only man left on the flat Earth,
From here you can still see what it’s worth,
A beauty beyond the microscope’s ken,
The theory of all that might have been.
Breathing and bathing in beatific senses of now, The why of all reasons;
unfolds to the product of how,
And the milk of her tongue feeds this unbridled suck of desire,
This poetry of planets dissolves all decisions of dire.
The only man left on the flat Earth,
From here you can still see what it’s worth,
A beauty beyond table-top technology,
The theory of all that still could be.
The only man left on the flat Earth,
The first being squared to the circle of birth,
The wordless dogma of the flesh,
History’s habits made future fresh.
Motion is its own cult and culture of direction, And cultivates all nonsense
and notions of perfection,
Her measure may always be culled from the pregnant horizon,
All clockwork and cunning reduced to a new sun arising.
The only man left on the flat Earth,
From here nothing’s lost to what it’s worth, Center and soul to the universe,
Alive to the blessing; unborn to the curse.