Bematist

 

Bematist   

 

Sisyphus calculating counting

pacing taking the measure of

the world from Alexandria

to the here and now sees

the shadow reducing

along the curvature

of the earth only

then to light up

the darkness

a moment

of water

caught

a well

slick

and

an

I

1

reflected on a shimmering surface   staring back   gone

Sisyphus

Eratosthenes

Bematist

Dark Matter

 

Dark Matter

 

I have tried to separate your pieces

and to fix them into a puzzle

that is the puzzle of you

as if you are a puzzle to be fixed

by finding discrete pieces

discreetly

that form a whole   only to find

there are holes where pieces do not

fit

or do so inexactly   more parts than sum

you or someone dropped the mirror

and when you peer in

it’s pure Picasso   the pain

 

There are spaces not bridged gaps fissures

there are cracks plates shifting

lack of seismic control tectonic

irregularity tremors and yet

you are immovable and unstoppable

 

All this is invisible

my antimatter

my Sagittarius A*

sucking in all the light

 

But this is just science

and since it does not cannot explain

nor can it paint a picture of a weeping woman

 

I hold a shard up against the light

to see its shape wonder if this might be

a piece of myself   sharp enough to make you bleed

warped by the force of your gravity

Science and poetry, the importance of being Ernest

Stamp collecting or the importance of being Ernest

A flock of pigeons, homing pigeons, in a blue sky,

Dance across my vision - like the shoals of floaters,

The smudges, that flicker and swim on my corneas,

Locked to the movement of my eyes – swish and sigh.

In the midst of the city, released from a jerry-built loft,

Amongst the urban sprawl, a sign switched on and off

That turns black to white, pepper to salt, they climb.

Catching the sun, they shimmer and shine – sublime.

Their flight seems coded, as rigid as semaphore;

Its significance invisibly sewn into the atmosphere.

They cut sharp angles with sudden turns; they loop

And swoop, shifting shapes, like a kaleidoscope. 

The formation stretches and contracts and each bird

Keeps its place; each one a cog in the machine,

A ghost; a haunting presence on the astral plane.

They careen overhead, a soft susurration heard

As urgent as any scientist’s prayer, or laugh.

They swarm; they glide; they build the very air -

At once here there everywhere nowhere;

Now out of sight.  What position? What path?

A quantum leap brings them back into orbit,

Pulls them back to a central point from which

A new arrangement of moves begins, each

One an infinitesimal big bang, an atom split,

A universe expanding … and for this moment,

A singular moment, I am the nucleus – potent,

Omniscient … but here comes the crunch;

The birds go to roost and what is left is a hunch

That the meaning is not in the message but

In the very idea that there is a message, that

The cat’s out of the bag but locked in a box.

So were still stuck with faith – it’s all just a hoax.

Click here for Ernest Rutherford

Click here to read about Schrodinger's cat