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.

Sleeping suburbia

Suburban street night lights

show collarless cats on the dusky prowl

for others and Friday night laughter, squeals,

leak out over the rooftops.

Venus loosens her belt

of lavender lingerie.

It is called, Good Evening.

A front door closes, somewhere

down the block-moan and thud,

then a dog speaks up,

in protest or jest.

Kerrr-clunK, kerrr-clunK,

rolls a skateboard by my

bedroom window where my

bed is against the window.

I see a silhouette where

the belly of the open rose

is quietly collecting dew.

Beauty sleeping bloom.

Cast in the far corner

on my white walls, the moon-

light speaks, near the door

-Beckoning-

for more room fortnight.

Photo Unknown (not given) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Speed wobbles

Racing past

one gets the landscape

by an Impression-ist wrist

At the window, the color box spilt

noting the puffs on the palette

pushing by, running in streams

the mouth waters, dipping brushes, the tongue wiggles

if I could reach out, put my hand in

this water colored river, grasping

gasping for shape, I'd find only

orange

I’m afraid

to hold, still life

that poses as natural

representations of still-yet this is also

dead and buried plaster in acrylic

and the fiber bleeds, canvas cracks

like us, as personal whims

which color where

wafting pass a blended note

complimentary, nice to the eye

you catch mid-air, a mood, a tone

holding it there, while it is thrust forward

continuously, ever

taking souvenirs

wherever you go, grabbing

blades in the wind

at the expanse,

taking it all together

in-

distinct

as rain on glass

racing past.

Image by Georges Seurat, 1882 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Pivot point: 11/1919

          

            ∞

Eclipsing theories it occurred Earthly,

by a twinkling of doubt-

might light penetrate that too?

Witnessed few-by degrees

scales of truth, by fractions-

a test, a hypothesis to rest

a wish we may, a wish we might

see if Einstein was right that daynight.

             ∞

Bending starlight towards the artists eyes

the heavy lenses have been adjusted.

Ephemeral epiphanies, yes these

have energy, fields that carry

to open spaces, finds minds,

where dark-grey-is shady mass

is recognized in its likeness, eye to eye

in poetry. Compression.

              ∞

Encompasses only Here

the ever widening, infinitely expanding

dynamic astrological points

of view, growing still

under the weak weight

of the world by volume,

softened by moving the arc light

finding its center.

Image credit By NASA on The Commons (Apollo 12 view of Solar Eclipse) [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons. 

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.