“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label 0. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 0. Show all posts
Saturday, November 4, 2017
Seine
Nets needed their holes
as much as the lines, holed in
meaning, bold definition.
Image credited By Internet Archive Book Images [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.
Thursday, October 26, 2017
Mercury’s Handmaid
In the second law of thermodynamics;
The poem as a made-thing is the
“Spontaneous emergence of self-organization”.
Besides this, in Science,
“The word magic means order”
So the symbol for Nothing
became shaped like the mouth in meditation,
in the midst of making more space
for Observation.
The numeral for the Universe,
One world, 1, as in Everything
Man-o-theistic made more calculating
layers encoded in an algorithm
to become binary bipeds seeking symbiosis,
or the meaning of Miracle. Walk the Talk.
Ecstasy is merely our abandonment
of a timeline.
Silence sought chaos,
letting letters separate from self in sound.
The tonality resonated
making all things
moving disappear
with (1) velocity (0)
without (0) reason (1).
We try to transcend our current state
if only for a half-life
chemical moment. Methodically mad.
there were bells to be rung,
the sentence was both a rule
and regret.
Painting by Jules Lefebvre [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Half-dozen Mud cakes
Back to wood decks, quarter-size spiders, webs, moss and creatures stirring in the hollow nights Back to no side-walks and skirting into th...
-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
I have served between eight and twenty-five thousand meals for my family, I make coffee for them more than once per day, equatin...
-
Lies About Love by D.H. Lawrence (1885-1930) We are all liars, because the truth of yesterday becomes a lie tomorrow, wherea...