Walking through a hazy morning, sweat dripping onto notebook
squiggle: "Zeus is the generative principle that sustains history,
magnifies it,
and gives it
               form
."

Is this the form, I wonder, Throeau’s mind took while wondering
if the plop of words he angled from Walden Pond could amplify
topos into temenos?

Myth subsumes reality, holding back the light
                                                    so that the poet has a journey
                                                                                          to perform.