Lucretius loved Epicurus, knew the world through him; his meaning was clear: love as a way of knowing, of assuming the known. To know is to narrate. People die trying to tell what it was like there then. Others die of not trying. The form of this telling is, for example, a trellis. A growth controlled unpredictable within measure. Trellis. Tri licium. three threads. The weaver knows through the fingers the way worlds hold together. Basket makers. The shadow of a trellis is filled against itself, against measure. See the sun try again to stop the movement of the rose climbing among the woven ways.
About this Poem:
“Like so many of my attempts, this poem uses the etymology of a word as a sort of, well, trellis. And it is a meditation on how sun and flower dance, deny and entangle each other—that is, it is an examination of how in the natural world, as in poetry, form is more fundamental than matter.” — Bin Ramke