More from the Rubáiyát of Michael the Tent Maker

If you want to know what this is all about (or if your name happens to be Alfy), read my previous post on Without further ado, my second, third, and fourth quatrains:


No limitations, no asymmetry,

No deviations, no impurity,

No seam, no change, nothing to wish for,

Nobody to wish, nobody to gee.


Between the interstices of this page

The potencies so small and faint presage

That it is like the whispers of the trees

Suddenly raising their voices in rage.


It is strange how we’re conceived like our

Inmost thoughts. Is this a proof that we are

Thought before we’re matter? At what point do

We subtly change from thought to matter?

I may be driving without my poetic license, but hi-ho Samarkand, onward and away!

Mike Stone

Raanana Israel


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