“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 Professor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Professor. Show all posts
Thursday, March 15, 2018
Professor
He spoke of the same humbling
Revelation
As if he had just learned it
himself
forgetting he had said this
every time I met him-
The first time
it was
news (to me)
Now, he says
it as Truth.
It may be so
fascinating, even true, however,
there are reasons
it is
he will never know.
Image credit by Metropolitan Museum of Art [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons.
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
The Theory of Speculative Direction
If you were lost in the woods,
a compass would work
better than a philosopher
even if you didn't know
how it all worked
At least you would get
Somewhere.
If you wanted to map
the Universe one
should listen to a shaman's mantra
not plot it out with an astrophysicist
it would be easier to project
realms by means of real numbers
shooting from the lip, a departure from
the same astral plane
bound by reasonable gravity
Altering the scenery doesn't change the view
from the eye of the bespoken
Plato's cave was not a practice of spelunking
to new depths
or sending our souls soaring to the stars
upon plummeting death and worms.
If I remember correctly
the act of recalling can feel like falling, sleeping or slipping
into the abyss of mind matter
a memory palace, a sin chateau,
a cabana for one's mana
and other obtrusive structures
machinations are machines
Like the disgruntled grandson
who built a Reverse Infinity Instrument
(a.k.a. a Time Machine)
whose Free Will Manual Transmission led him to kill
the wise man he so despised
an obviously inane and obtuse conundrum
based on probablies and anti-definitives
that work every
ninety-nine percent of the Time
but that too was just speculative theory
Composed 6/18/15.
Image By A. Ernyes at en.wikipedia (Own work Transferred from en.wikipedia) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons of Kootenay Lake BC.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Tres (trace)
Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow...
-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
This world is not for breath for feelings also come and go. As hard and light as Push and pull Go. Busy hands and bees-electricity, alter...
-
Today seems like a good day to burn a bridge or two. The sky resembles a backlit canopy with holes punched in it. In California...