Formicidae

In moments that require us to stay
put,
against or free will,
tortiously, we may see some relief
in the focus
on a leaf or insects, say
the way
ants seem so purposeful
about their busyness since
distraction eases the
due process-

But then
it doesn't take long for us to
jump in,
and kill it,
this one
Stopped
his trailblazing,
his dead friend lie underfoot,
for a moment
he wondered why,
I could see it-

Anyway, I am moved
by this
and he proceeds to collect
his dead
taking him somewhere

I wonder why
it matters so much,
this weight to bear
the same as when I carried
mine
into their graves,

one realizes in
tense moments
the weight is the same
and ending in a tie
or twist of genes,
neither of us will
come out alive.


Image credited by Lubbock, John [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Scientific Methodology: Poetic Method

"Science should be poetry, and poetry science."

Para-phrased:

"Science is the organized, systematic enterprise that gathers knowledge about the world and condenses the knowledge into testable laws and principles,"

“Likewise with independent investigations, the same phenomenon is sought.”

1.) Fundamentally, to be known, trusted, retold and in order to be 

added as ammunition to the cannon, revolving on the poetic or scientific roster,

we need more than one (time), we need repetition (in science), practice and reproduction (imagination and readymades), and so on, and so on…

2.) the economy, indeed, it is most necessary.

I wholeheartedly agree, employing a simultaneity

of elegance and condensery-ing less into more, more or less...

(i.e. the largest amount of information with the least amount of effort)

Yes, go on.

3.) Strength, the virility, most importantly,

must be consistent in some-such-way,

creating a co-mensuration between 

not bang and emergence,

fourth, and forth.

4.) The spewing of more than we knew we had.

The best of which inspires the search for more.

And finally-fifthly

5.) Consilience, he says, is the one way to be

profound with words.

Experimental,

science and art shared the words

methodology and madness,

we have seen 

the singularity as abstract art. 

The weight 

of the line

was the same.
A ton of feathers
still won't fly without direction.

(based on the book ‘Consilience, The Unity of Knowledge’ by E.O. Wilson pg. 58)

Drawing By Wilson, E.O. (1985). "Ants From the Cretaceous and Eocene Amber of North America". Psyche: A Journal of Entomology 92 (2–3): 205–216. DOI:10.1155/1985/57604. (Psyche: A Journal of Entomology) [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons.

Tenacity

The air being pulled
from the right to the left,
lets up only to adjust and
regrip its hold
on hills.

The ants do not recede,
do not retreat in holes.
Armies have assembled
along the walls, there is no
start, no end, like this wind
no safe seal.

The papers pile up under the
evenings in red and
drip down for later.
Ideas fly out the window
lifting hairs, touching
elsewhere,
never landing as said.






Painting By Antonio Parreiras (1860 - 1937) – Painter (Brazilian) Born in Niterói, Brazil. Dead in Niterói, Brazil. Details of artist on Google Art Project [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Biting the breeze back

That wicked wintry wind
sere-cut through
blew ants inside
made windows whine
slammed doors
and cause cupboards to swell
cold as-

Ruffles-too nice
a term to use for what it does
to the leaves and hips of trees-
raucous a more apropos word
in a nutshell...

Nothing gets done
and it liberally spreads crumbs
for anxiety to expound and nibble upon
and dwell on and on it seems-

I have not slept in years
I have no fears
I can spell.

And there is the calendar
-blowing me off
in the distance;
this instance the breeze takes all
the breathable air,
despite the futile grasps
at straw structures
-Nothing-comes
together in this weather
I yell.



Painting by John Everett Millais, 'Blow, blow thou winter wind' (1892) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Little big things add up

You count the ants,
I will count the stars
The sheeple will graze in between.

The sun will highlight
optical illusions,
as color-wheel real.
The moon casts shadows
on our little delusions,
fear reigns supreme
in dream.

Our being
Here
while pointing to a view
too minute to see audibly
too vast for me
to grasp without the imaginary,
makes dreams with my reality.




Image credit Popular Science Monthly V. 29 (1886), thru telescope image via Wikimedia Commons.

The Adam-Ant (species by gross weight)

Same as, We are to

the ants in the poem, yes

our weight is the Same. 

Image By Luo Ping [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.