“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 chromosome. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chromosome. Show all posts
Monday, June 26, 2017
Orange-inality
It could have been
the orange sky
I was admiring
-he asked me why
I noticed
if I felt good?
It may only be its likeness
to oval and objection to purple
-he thinks I am an artist
like that
the palette and what is not
tasted by others
It is likely the ellipse
I offered him
We could have been randomly
cast in the color before
-he agrees dutifully
and we could be genetically
unique only as far as we can see-
which threw him for a loop.
I only meant this hypothetically
potentially when the genome metes
its random end
it would depend on the (re)combination
and assembly by chromosomal connection
of organelle by origami, by atom.
Adam, says he.
It is a lovely Eve-
ning, said I as I happened to be
passing by.
Image By Sondrekv (Own work) [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...