BY JAN HAAG
TRIVIAL CLEWS TO CANTALLOC
10-6-97
Spiraling
from one point,
fractals,
Mandelbrot Sets
pattern
themselves
into organic forms like the Glass
Bead
Game.
Along the midnight streets
shimmer the ribbons of
music
glittering grey and black and silver
in stereo.
On the
beach
a sand-sized chip,
the hologram of several
million volumes
from the National
Library of Japan,
lies among others
of
which Blake said:
"... see the world in a grain of sand ..."
Can't
you hear God's
guffaw as Blake's eyes blink
at the literalness of
it all.
Who'd guess the black disk
stuck on the cactus
thorn
in the desert
can speak,
sing;
that butterfly's
wings were
stalked by Kjell Sandved for fifteen years
to spell our
alphabet
plus
1, 2, 3 and 4.
To preserve their
knowledge
the Incas tied knots in rope.
Who knows what wisdom
they wove into their
200 inch wide
shrouds,
apparel,
hangings,
rugs
sporting
Paracas cats and floating
heads.
The Pazyryk Carpet
extracted from the Altai ice
is
sixteen beats
to a side
plus horses and riders.
Catal
Huyuk,
run by the Goddess,
transmits the
female
lore.
Since before the 21st Century B.C.
women have
been weaving
warmth and comfort,
for wear and embellishment,
for
home and body.
Encoded in textiles,
today and yesterday they've
stitched
trivial clews,
familiar guides
that lie in a
maze,
pattern,
perplexity,
intricate investigation.
The
Jacquard Loom
anticipated
the computer.
Our heritage
passes,
often
unexpectedly,
unseen,
from hand to
hand.
Cantalloc means: a place of weaving.
It was among the
Nazca Lines.
Copyright © 2000 Jan Haag
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Jan Haag may be reached via e-mail: jhaag@u.washington.edu
The Cattle Have Diamond Bones
Feeding Frenzy
From The Jocasta Poems #15, Blindness
From The Jocasta Poems #16, Death
George Coluzzi
India
I Am Innuit
McDonald Observatory
Palimpsest I, Sphere
Ryoangi
Tibetan Chronicle
The Woman Who Had No Necklaces
BY JAN HAAG