The motor oiled, it seems,
with hebetude,
rotates its ceiling fans.
The air hardly
moves for this
historic meeting.
On the rosewood table
between Kepler & Paracelsus
are two bowls:
one of fruit — papaya, limes,
mangoes, and oranges
from the
New World,
and one of alphabet soup.
Kepler takes the earth to be
a lime. He has an orange sun.
Paracelsus dabbles in the alphabet
soup, listening.
Finally he says
Ego- replaces geo-
centricity:
no revolution —
simply consonantal drift: