Sense making

Some-things 
Stirring
But you cannot see It.
Less than wind
must be
that other
Dimension You
Feel but cannot
Touch.

Tension
and tingling, and tummy flips
Come from
There. You can smell
Rain
can't you?
Never-mind,
I think
I have asked before...

Painting by Alexander Helwig Wyant, 'Wind Clouds' c. 1927 via Wikimedia Commons in Public Domain.

Layman terms

A single handful
of random people
really
understand astrophysics-
particularly excluding women
that choose cosmetology
over cosmology-
when trying to turn back time.

Look inside the steeple,
only this many people
read poetry.
They gather to create volume-
mass,
in order to absorb the familiar
echoes of shared words-
also known by
Belief.

Nobody reads anymore
between the lines,
along the marginalia,
the mean matches the median,
rounded to zero.

At least there seems to be
never enough
Time
to explore other dimensions
completely
and related matters
in(di)visible as a (w)hole.





Artwork by Charles Demuth [No restrictions or Public domain], 'Roofs and steeple' c. 1921 via Wikimedia Commons.

X-plane-ing

Never start with

-Because-

it was not good

-nothing-Was

until you found it, nevermind-

motives mean nothing.

I have seen you,

said the old Tribe

in lieu of hollow

Hellos or glum Good byes.

A meeting of the minds may be more than

mirroring-one thing.

(maybe we see the reflective colors

sum up the subject of the object.)

Distractions do divert 

-lightening the wait

of Attraction, less is no more 

than Was. 

Entropy, conceptually, 
reminds us of death.

Heaven forbid our mortal enemy leaves us 
mementos. 

Life lingers on plans, killing time, we forget

Desire by simplifying chaos.

Using zeros and ones

we reduce friction, concentrate on feedback,

Thus, by sharing our singularity as a hole and saying

We relate

origami, fractals, nets,

Symbols are all familiar 

And with so many ways to skin Schrödinger’s cat
how could we-
Not

Because

It is or was

Not a good place to start

with y and ex-plane-ing

flatly, footsteps in another di-

mention.


Photo credit By Agriculture And Stock Department, (1951) Publicity Branch [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Spin

According to the variables,
the rules were elongated.
Black time flowed fast
on an interrupted smooth plane.
There were too many similar pieces
in play and the moved spaces
never progressed wayward
along the spherical borderline
overlapping soul and self,
Venn inside, categorically
trapped, unable to trace the way
to break the line that labels, rates
and places apart flat out
otherness, the other coin side
limited by a the double dimension
of peopled perception, angle of the arc
along the rim of the never ending
line that flows back into itself.
It's your turn to spin.

In the Zone (everything flows)

We have been put in our place “Now”

some feel trapped “Here” -in this dimension sandwich-
Between the roof-sphere-sky-bread
the floor-terra-granite-salt-meat.

Chin up, wi-fi buzzes
humming high-pitched all ways
electric energy
flows
Every Where
we insist on Being.

It originates and stimulates
somewhere
too far to hear
below
the lines,

of sedimentary sheets
compressed in ambient ambivalence
resting in a peace of a kind,
we minded and kept in our place,

like calm, comfortable creatures, calculating:

Where is “Here”
No Time like “Now”

with or without Us
life flows
with no End (in-sight).

Image By NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Atmosphere of exoplanet taken Dec. 2013.

Versmilitude

I have 3,463 reasons
to hate me
as seen through the spectacled
looking glass
learning pupils of others eyes
believing in
All truth be told

From inside the fishbowl
a ripple effect goes nowhere
waves of distortion
roll by in wakes
blown out of proportion

To see is to know
What you Do shows
I suppose
better than what you Are...
barely there
thin as a rail
hardly frail
by contrast
and that pale glow
(if you would like to know)
ghostly ashen skin
is not so thin.

Deemed some dame or debutante
with nothing to flaunt
talent, imbalance,
withstanding-
Despite the empathetic understanding
I squeezed into the mold
(as I was told)
now my metallic blood runs steely cold.

I tremble
at your thoughts of me
and the terrible what nots you see
that I cannot spot
any resemblances.

A two-way mirror
absorbs one reflection
shattering a reality
piercing in severe observation
a practice in futility
noticing the nothings
lacking depth perception
merely a dimension of what
you thought you saw
was me
was you too.



Image Guillaume Bodinier [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. (Confession c. 1826).