240
The encompassing shallow-hearted deity
That was, is not--
Nor space nor time
But the particulate word
Enchanting: the sea of suns
Is measured.
The primer's eluctable equations, monks' cribs,
Are now stranged, flavored, and spun
To the depth and breadth of the matter--
And the maker's extremity, finger extended,
Is uncurtained as a clockwork chaos.