A STRANGE ZERO AT
THE NUMBER TEN
On a branch above me a black bird is
fluffing its wings. With a silence; is
that all it knows, or a million other
things? Does this bird count branches
and elaborate to itself upon distance
and flight and time? I wonder, or at
least I wish to wonder but can't really
realize a use for the info. I don't know.
We have numbers, and we have zero.
Is it something like that for this bird?
-
The mathematics of moments apparently
works for us as we take a series of numbers
and just add zeroes to move the sequence
along : Apparently expanding things.
Apparently extending ourselves and our
concepts into some twisted human form
of an over-reach often unnecessary too.
For what to we get from all of that?
More limbs and branches to hop to and
from, fluffing our vain wings while
we're on the run?
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