The chalk of Dirac he broke in half to place aside each side of stern lecture lecturn,

in grave taciturnite sublime explaining quantum observation’s indecipherable jest of measurement.

The same chalk thus here and there both same at once, but possibly within fingers’ reach anywhere else.


Back in ’93 I wandered one noon into Westminster Abbey to see the crypts of bishops, poets and kings

Mostly vaguelike frieze type profusions from nave walls low beneath late gothic pillar ribbing of tudorish theory stringlike expanding bloom of strands

When of a sudden from loft unseen a choir invisible, immeasurable gleaned out of air some anachron medieval polyphony

Just the split sec in half my eye caught engraved in grey marble stand the equation of Dirac on freshlike tomb like an inscription with chant to inspire like me all dumbfounded doomed.

How simultaneous with thought came the essence of things like Shroedinger’s cat both exist and does not

(not knowing which til peering in box)

And it dawned on me then this abstract presence of tome for temple normally reserved for thought of God

Revealed the deepest memory of all whether the One who inspired all this did himself in Galilee exist or not

And if divine intent didn’t make it seem no one should know where or when as sacred why of mystery

thus i became, since was, moving electron trembling, tumbling

in astute stunt of singing swirl round about complacent whirl of world.

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