The w(h)ole thing

When we say something is porous, it is a description of the holes
that allow other matters to fill the spaces between,
also known as absorption.
And this process ends when the porous body becomes full
of itself.
When we say, "poor us", we mean what we don't have,
as in desiring something to fill the void.
When look closely for the smallest common denominator,
we would find scores of pores all across our largest organ,
we would be referring to the spaces between
us and the world. Da Vinci knew there were no dividing lines.
When this skin tightens and turns to gooseflesh,
it is an act of repulsion or rapture.
We open our mouths and nothing escapes,
this is a microcosm of the black hole.

Standing atop the threshold, I open the door and I wonder
if I am letting the hot air out or welcoming
the cool air inside? How is relativity related to reality?
Loosely. Do virtues exist in the virtual world?
Is our privacy other peoples business, like common stock,
traded for common knowledge.
Have you been to the Public Domain?

Time is money expressed in regular intervals,
like breath, hard to catch with our heads at this altitude.
In theory, if we can't count it, can we make it count
without real numbers? It all adds up

to unfathomable astronomical units.

What was needed was more space,
but how to go about collecting more nothing
and where would we keep it...
Something was missing,
we knew this much.


Painting by Ernest Slingeneyer, 'The art collector' 1881 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Blue earth, Red sun

Earth will end on a Sunday.

The sun will have had its best days behind...

The moon, long retired, makes wax figurines.

So we are all stars.

Nothing disappears without direction,

even inside itself.

Concentrate.

The ethereal essence is growing without us.

Earth, like a sponge, porous

we take it all in until full

dripping with light.

And just like deja vu, we knew

Earth will end on a Sunday.

Drawing (pen, ink, graphite) by William Blake [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. The great red dragon and the woman clothed with the sun.

Hydra-tion

Let that soak in...
it was, of course, he who challenged
Could we rise above
as them who stood on shoulders
of they indiscriminately
stomping on knuckles over the climb
we absorb
traction and take it all in
strides, that makes us full of it.

But somehow it had been forgotten
what was there before we
grew
so we could squeeze every last drop out
and call it New and This
capacity for repetition defined by the
circumference of our pores
and gross weight.

We all were already saturated-
but only she has the greater liquid measure,
and capacity for regeneration.



Painting by Gustave Moreau [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons (1870). 

NoFilter

One of the very first words I remember
that made my tongue tingle so I had to taste them for myself
were-semipermeable membrane-
of course, it is more than one word or two words-a mouthful for sure.
To explain, particularly if one cannot extract the base roots of Latin,
it is also the magical implication of choice inherent with function,
the unique arrangement or conjunction
soaks deeply upon contact into my thin skin.

It was the vibration of M
and because filters
act this way,
save lives
accept and reject
all too
porous, too generous
to assimilate or osmose it all,
any more than a mouthfeel
in multiplicity of meaning.




Image By Aerogelflower.jpg derivative work: JovanCormac (Aerogelflower.jpg) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.