Umkehrpunkt


Love repudiates
Aristotelian logic.
The causal-chain,

Retraced, led to
You, Summer
Courtesan, objectum

Aeternam.
The Unmoved
Mover was a joke.

I bought a book and the
Book would nod.
It would speak

A source.
Beyond that source
Memories were vain.

I used to read words and
Twist my neck.
I thought I was

A bird with a long neck.
I would watch the
Black ink

Turn at the
Umkehrpunkt,
Undergo

Total
Ontological reversal,
Or else reveal

A lady, cherry-
Blossom in hair,
Dancer in the

Clearing, mover
In the unmoved.
How merciless

The black ink
Returns, reclaims
Itself in the black

Order of itself,
Seizing
Sovereignty from

Love,
Aristotle, and their
Respective Lore.