Riemann

Solo openings in the fabric of time abate the plain line
No low cravings tear the torn canvas there
And light finds the whispering tear gaping low on the clouds
From which the loud and screaming naked angels fall
Beside that tree and lake where giants call
So loud that an horizon sits proud holding the side arm of Riemann
A metric gun held to the head of quiet and sensible minds
.

He changed everything they say
The world was flat before
The distance constant
.

Solo openings in the fabric of space abate the line plane
Her craving for the passion play cries upon oiled canvas there
And the darkness is lost in the wet dreams of her coughing sky
There is no saving the sudden silence as the angels fall and die
Beside that tree in the quiet of the day his life slips away
A metric gun held to the head of quiet and sensible minds
.

Comments

[Liam Elliott]

Great poem.
For some reason it reminded me of a woman giving birth. Probably, the naked angels falling from a tear in the sky.

Eitherway, I really enjoy the final line of the first and last stanzas.

[dennis robinson]

Hi Steven

I completly don't understand this poem. Would it help if I wasn't so thick ? Who is Riemann. I knoe I will google . I know you shouldn't have to explain poetryso maybe I will have to work hardetr on this