The Golden Termite [Today's News Poem, March 4, 2011]
It's always back and forth between deduction, induction, reduction, seduction; always a slip of the while to recover one's footing; capture one's balance to throw it akilter again. And we slither on tightropes; we slither as tightrope: slivers of quicksilver. Silver; everything bright is a gem or a metal refined to its limit; a thing to explore and deplete and discard. The object dissolves as we breach to the center of things—hear the ring of the harmony latent in spheres? Eve of our prayer to atom, we played in our garden of tin and its blossoms of soot; we reduced our perspective and drilled to the core, which exploded of course and enthralled us. It called us a name we have kept ever since: something like element, shapeshifter—termites that watch for their God in the timber, in cellulose. God of the termites. God as a termite.
"Gold futures rallied and silver hit its highest point in nearly 31-years Friday as jitters about rising oil prices amid Middle East tensions boosted the metals as refuge investments."
—Matt Whittaker Of DOW JONES NEWSWIRES, The Wall Street Journal, MARCH 4, 2011, 2:38 P.M. ET
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