Monday, February 16, 2015

Three-Way Bulb

I like math even though I suck at it
My arms promote the use of hands
As a warm climate climbs into me
And makes itself at home
I’m haunted by electricity
I don’t understand volts
Or amps but I do understand
Plugs and outlets
I speak with the pungency of fire
Don’t let me burn you
With the soft murmur of fruit
I’m only forming ideas
And ideas of form
A whisper of silver sewn into black
Like an insect crawling to the end
Of a branch and slamming the door
On my face. There are cinnamon twists
In the closet help yourself
No one else will
After the fog lifts it begins to snow
Quarks gurgle the density of experience
Can you hear it
It sounds like popcorn
In the fourth dimension
I wear the headdress of my nation
Which is an exaltation of larks
Coffee enlarges my consciousness
So that it no longer fits my head
I have to write it down
The luxury of pronouns allows this to happen
In the same way that delicate brushwork
Will tickle a jellyfish
How can I explain this paradigm
While I walk backward
With my eyes on stalks
Singing of ancient kings
If only to arrive at some form of conclusion
A sweeping generalization
So convincing that it may be mistaken
For a shirt. I withdraw into olives
And write a book of diamonds
Do not tease the tiger
Or you will be eaten
By remorse and these words
Are hungry for your full attention
I live in a country of endless war
Until we arrive at the border of death
And shavings of Parmesan cheese
Remind us of the good things in life
And the not so good things
Such as weeding & doing the dishes
I work in an olfactory
Membrane making smells
Appropriate to the human condition
I bring a cactus close to my face
And get to know it
Let this moment
Wrap around you like a stranger
Peaked roofs & a timbered façade
A singing nipple
And a white gazebo
Be careful I bruise easily
And this is my backyard
Gardens that flex their muscle
With artificial eczema
It is the turf of a northern climate
And these are the jottings of an old man
Examining his youth
Of lust & corruption
Like that of France
At the beginning of the Revolution
That are now just bits of truth
Contorted like pretzels
In the open light
Of a three-way bulb



1 comment:

Bob Amman said...

Three Way Bulb. Interesting what 20 watts can do, in the human brain, in at least 3 dimensions. Saw the movie today about Alan Turing and the Imitation Game. Almost missed it, due to end of run in local theaters. Only about 6 of us in a 200 seat theater. Working on a book about my uncle who was in OSS Secret Intelligence during WW II. My brain is more like Turing's than like my uncle's. Like a fly's eye, or maybe a bumble bee, I see details and semi-mosaic patterns, but often miss the obvious that average folk see. I never pursued math, tho it held some interest for me. And crossword puzzles, even easy ones give me a headache. So I'm no Alan Turing. However I share some of his frustration, with seeing things nobody else does, while not easily seeing all they do. “Sometimes it is the people whom no one imagines anything of, who do the things that no one can imagine.”