Nightvision

Silver sliver slit of moon

acts archaic atop adorned academies, antiquity

of old ordained, ornate, obstinate, and now obtuse

proclivities, profusely posing purporting professorship,

impelled into impervious impatient improprieties.

Notions by night, nearly now, it's too near novice to notice.

We will wait while the world wakes wearily,

today, teach the truth, telling tales, trusting stories to-

gether, gathering, groaning, gaining girth and gravity as we go

up right, up-tight, up early, up-side-down, unnoticed, in parity, and undulate.

Caught, covered by coal clouds carpeting the charisma

blue-black-blinking-bringing-back

wisps of white words which purple pink

disappear during daylight,

alone little line left

hanging on the hazy horizon, humidity hovers heavily

upon us.

Image By Long, William J. (William Joseph), 1867-1952 [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.

Graphing exponential poetry

Poetry is a verb, actually

like making math.

Word problems are like poems-

not the answers,

that would be equating

sentences with results,

or pseudo-solutions

as situationally contingent

on truth, theoretically philosophy.

Those theorems,

like theories (of everything)

contain figurative

symbols to represent

flatly for us

a two-dimensional space, so we can grasp

a ratio reliant deeply

on equivalent symmetry

or isonomy

for all,

unequivocally.

Arithmetically synonymous

to finding n

with figuring out

the answers-sans numerals

by visualizing potential

probabilities

physic-all-

y

testing x

:for scalability

and (un)limited (un) confidential correspondence

or N/A on

.

Image By Joshi1983 (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Description: English: Volumetric visualization of a fractal function f(x,y,z) where the cut of z=0 graphs the Mandelbrot fractal and the cut of z=1 graphs the Juliaset fractal. The final iteration counts were mapped to opacity levels and colours. The shadow effect is made by tracing rays back to a vanishing point and using the opacity level along the traced ray to determine how well lit each point should be.

Knocked-up

The propagation of our species

is analogous to the activity in the LHC.

You see,

an Adam thrusting through the dark tube

on the Eve of infinitesimal exploration,

leaves a trace (of some Thing).

It happens,

plottable and expiated, it could be done.

Two come together, indelibly scribed. Trinity or Unity.

Isolated in Chronotope,

making love in concaves

and shattering parts of the hole.

Smashing and grabbing at mortality

x times y we try to replicate.

Positively propelled into new states

that gyrate around an unstable nuclei,

the family, in particular combination.

Metamorphosis and catharsis,

a process, or detonation.

Another explosion of selfsame stuff-

making matter most notably, arrayed-

                      contradictory to the dynamic display.  

Image of painting by Chemical Heritage Foundation [Public domain or CC BY 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons.

+Advice

Meanwhile,

all your work was not wasted.

See,

you wouldn't have understood me

before.

What's more,

you already knew these things,

such as; simple sayings, adage, axioms
and cliches, articles of accessory

seemed so gaudy, and yet
tried. 

Unlike any new advice such as

subtle suggestions, elbows 
and a nudge,
not this way, we learn as we
make progress. 
You

have this one life, one chance, one

You

must do what you love

Now.

Ask.

Ask not for permission, 
don't wait for approval 
don't doubt
empty pockets have holes.

Ask without question what is
Best. One foot at a

Time, time

is watching you
while you have an eye on it.

This time 
is yours, borrowed.

Counting the friendly hour,

you

count on hands

and wonder what it all

amounts to.

Like wilting exclamation marks,

on a petrified Dali branch,
there was always the expression 
and what it meant
to you. 

Image of painting by Honoré Daumier [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons, Advice to a Young Artist (1865-68).
Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot [1796-1875], Paris; (his estate sale, Hôtel Drouot, Paris, part III, 7-9 June 1875, no. 665); purchased by Arthur Stevens.[1] Guillotin, Paris, by 1901. Adolphe A. Tavernier, Paris, by 1901.[2] [Ernest?] Cronier, by 1904. Goerg [or Georg], Reims, by 1905. A. Bergeaud, Paris, in 1910.[3] (Alex Reid & Lefèvre, Ltd., Glasgow and London), by 1927; sold to D.W.T. Cargill [1872-1939], Glasgow. (M. Knoedler & Co., New York), by 1928.[4] (Galerie Étienne Bignou, New York); sold 1941 to Duncan Phillips [1886-1966], Washington, D.C.; gift 1941 to NGA.

A-round A-gain

It was only natural,

the moon mattered more &

the stars too trivial to twinkle.

It was as expected,

as time unfolds memory,ensues, 

enframes and borders the view.

It was

more than the medium

or the membrane, the skin sheds and mind

stretches     out for much       more.

It  matters,

Even when it is all the same-

when forever ended time and again, a perfect moment

stolen in a last sunrise-

for Good.

It was only natural

light, reaches the furthest corners and bounces

back.

On a curve,  

photons careen in corners,

where

          sovereign circles can spin spirals…

Dross traces of dark matter will devour all the same,

sanding the edges

              smooth

for the first Time. 

Painting by Wassily Kandinsky, Heavy Circles 1927 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

A round of a pause

Magic elixir, quick fixer,

there is no cure.

It is fatal, even tragic,

there is no real magic

in metallurgy,

by standard,

gold gets warm to the touch, silver reflects

soft and such-

Just ignore

those that keep score with trinkets

As alchemists insist upon

what is made is nevermore

than before

enduring and manipulating

the use

while passing through,

by hand.

The philosophers’ stone

Mostly taken for granite.

Painting by Luis Ricardo Falero, Study of a Witch (19th century), [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Day dreams

The world is flat-after all.

From here on the ledge
of this precipice, crisp
ridges jut through hazy space.

Placed in perch, the pendulum,
humming in wide ether ebbs
across calm chasms float
ascending the abysmal
highs and neaps-
the watcher sleeps, while
I's skip across the surface-

It is good to know,
up-on deeper reflection,
if light were soft,
nightfall would not hurt-
so much as with onus-
we carry dreams, inklings
heavy enough for sinking stars.

In arches,
the moon bounces back,
putting herself away in phases
setting limits on the possibilities
of how far eyes can go in one day.




Photo By Jon Sullivan [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.