Many Worlds Theory

Reports, Retorts, Distorts of and from Many Worlds



Reports keep coming in from here and there, far and near,

call them what you will: imports, legal, illegal, and in between,

retorts borne by alleged cohorts, genuine, ingenuous, mixtures too,

more likely distorts, warnings passed on to us long ago, 1590 thereabouts,

“How easy is a bush supposed a bear!” Such news goes on even now.

All sorts of takes sidle their way above, behind, before and aft,

ahead, aside, below, via gut or “brain,” dorsal, ventral, and in between,

bake off recettes, many more than the nine that Browning’s Ring and Book

wafted the way our--you man! you woman!--eyes, ears, nose, lips, or hands could discern,

burning their way within the gentrified nomenclature

seared into our words, be they English, Inglés, Francaise, Bengali,

zhongguo hua, Hungarkorean, or what you will, into the heart,

only to assert, exhort, even demand we move and keep on moving on,

blind and deaf and dumb, betimes scared and numb, as we rightly intuit

our sit- or, perchance, sat-uration point, Camusing, Sartreing (not sauntering)

ahead, to come across—no, even stumble on!—our rare, or special, or, don’t worry,

ordinary turf of our so-called selves, to know, as Henry T. declared,

that no one and even every one is walking one road so far as I.

Don’t stop or even pause the voyage on this rare earth, as some it would declare,

or self thwart envisioning a filter, fancy strainer, that it may seem. Even facing

the chance of doom athwart the unseen, unheard, untouched, un-smelled, untasted locale,

move a head, a leg, an arm or two, replete with toes, ten or more as may sometime

occur, and, yes, the hardy heart within, to, simply put, live and live

and live each reunion with every leaf, stone, or door met along the sometimes arduous path right here.