the law the prophets and fig newtons

Paul Conant pages I
Paul Conant pages II
'Since Grandpa Died,' a play by Elizabeth O'Donnell and Paul Conant

for the sake of argument

let's say

i meek

all things newton

for now

and then of course

the code 'x' of moses

hollers from back you'nder

who am i

how do i know

says a stone

how should i know

thinks i in stein



says isaac

we'll take a playful peek

under the covers


exclaims the prophet

whose word made law

tis a great light spear

a flying phenom hurtled

thru the air apparent

sun of a ray gun look here

a rainbow host doth appear

yet the pure white light is




how is it that the moon and mars

keep faith with the farthest stars

is it the code 'x' of moses

or druidical data

that seals the deal

the elegance of the inverse square

does little to repair

the fall of gravity



no need for all this ethereal fluff

says albert i

tell you light is a weighty matter

and further

space is time

and time is short

or long depending on the pace

of holy c

still i cannot give place

to any force that fields the light

as other than a concrete insight

into twisted reality

no dice


mathemythics bohr and bohm

hunting for lost cause's home

were whirls apart



but don't you see

what's in is out

and what's out is ink

and paul dirac's holey ghosts

show up in any goal-danged space



knock that damn two-timing cat

out of that highly improbable

hat howl erwin

al et al to know avail

it seems elektra is

what do you know


by the way

i've taken quite a shine

to a brilliant bloke what a find

what a friend i have in goedel


put us all to the test

and found we come up wanting

at best



the trouble with cantor's paradise

is deep down

there's nothing to it

tho fig newtons are very popular


quiets the discontent of not knowing


your mother went