For Virginia Wolf 1.11.01

Of what use is all this knowledge
profusion of theories
concurrent planes of reality

what use is all this bounty what expansive
form to fill and
pride and
purpose to defend

what vast void whose edges to define, must be defined
and dimmed hopes to re-ignite, and
dreams to pump full of shape and noise and noise and noise

thoughts heavy and pendulous
leaden globes
suspended in viscous timeless galaxies

too much matter
detritus of reason, reason's inevitable debris
undeterminable truths
layer upon layer of truths

not enough silence
or silent space
not enough of that elusive grace

too much cause and effect as fragile and thin as Saturn's rings-
of what use is all this knowledge if
severed from the heart

thoughts spinning on self axis
heavy molten globes
doomed to collision
fractured consciousness
inevitable madness
all this knowledge
this wondering and worrying at the boundaries of fiction
at the thin thin threads that bind us each to our own orbit
knowing that they too are a thin fiction.
what is the use of all this knowledge
if all trajectories lead to irreparable despair
to stones in the pocket