in that model
he made of the universe
there was no room
for truth, only conjecture
temporary guesses
about what’s live in the space
between words
and metronomes pulse
ironic, how the man who didn’t believe anything
but had many suspicions
has the answers now
and isn’t talking
Susan Daniels Poetry 
“the space
between words
and metronomes pulse”
Love that. But then, you could probably guess that I would. Those spaces…always those spaces.
(“metronome’s” or “metronomes”? either way it’s good, but I wanted to read the possessive)
but the contrast of where my mind wants to go and where you lead it instead is a juicy kind of tension, so….
I meant metronomes, as in making a noun a verb, because I’m evil that way 😉
AHA! Even better!
Hee, hee.
Oh yes. I like that reading very much. It leaves the reader buoyed along–as though the spaces are an empty wavelength.
I like the denouement very much. Was RA a real person?
Yes, he was. Shortly before he died, he made the statement that he didn’t believe anything but had many suspicions. Great guy.
Sounds like my kinda guy, Susan.
Very interesting!
Thanks. RA was a great guy.
Susan,
This is lovely. It reminds me that I have suspicions as well. 😉
Alice
Me too. i have suspicions that have leaned into faith 😉
They do that.eh? 🙂
Mine did.
Oh, I like this. I think of the infinity of space between each word where anything can live or manifest.
Thought-provokingly beautiful, as usual. Would love to know the backstory to this poem.
Thanks, Georgia. Very good friend of mine. Died far to young (in his 30s) of a heart attack, and he was a huge fitness buff. Smart man. One of a kind, and missed. The “don’t have faith but I have many suspicions” was one of the last things we talked about.