Adam Names the Concepts
I’ll try to tell you how it was: I lay
Face up, eyes closed, nose high and breathed indeed
That vintage earth. Words sputtered fitfully
At first, then flew their avid marvel-ways
To sound, so all around me shivered bright
Unmentionable-till-now conceptions: acrid,
Anniversary, elopement, morbid
Somnolent, mephistoclean, ingrate.
Condense. The thoughts, the sounds becoming breath,
Inspired ululations…what’s the term?
Glossolalia—that one too I named—
Blew forth until no globed fruit-thought remained
Without a stem to hold. And then I slept
And dreamed each number I had named had grown
Impatient with mere quantity and bloomed
Entire symbol systems: oxen bearing
Olive branches, men with weaving looms
And esoteric patterns tying all
To each and all. When I awoke the world
Had rearranged and snuggled into place.
The sun was high, the dew was fresh and but
One threat remained to trouble paradise:
That I’d mistook “to order” for “to be.”