I'm not sure what you've transcended, though,
except the idea that a conjunction
happens in a straight line, and must always be made divine;
and that only mathematics is allowed to speak of functions
of the human psyche: these are to generate fear,
and fixations, and hyperrational, overstimulated brevity
of emotion, and intuition, and all those other subjectivities
that make space for no one and nothing and nowhere
except the very end of infinity -
like I said, drawn straight through every line tendentious and gay,
parabolic, asymptropic and equatorially made.
Brown is not a colour that we use for graphs and curvature of the
shade you throw my way
when you think I'm not looking,
when you think I actually have something else to say
to you, beyond this:
mind your own business, and make friends with your own nonsense.
This was, admittedly, a portrait of the artist as a Jung man;
now it has become the foreshadowing of the heartiest as Aquarian,
the sharpest Sundalander as the poet's flashing pen
flooding across the mind.
You say I know nothing of what it takes to divine
a structure, a syllabary, a scaffolding enough for time
itself to fit within a conjunction.
But let me show you what spherical means, and why
they call me Singapore's bravest and gayest new sovereign:
I write them all, every day,
a new, and newer, and so very unknown axiom.
Maria sa nomi dretu
Makara:
Kristang, quingly, and brown.
This is our big play for the universe, my Melakan merwarrior;
this is the story of how every psyche came to wear the crown.