Two New, One Old

Hey, I am back. I will do something I usually don't do: I will post a poem I wrote the same day (today in this case) that I am writing the blog-entry with the poem.
And I will also post a poem that I wrote yesterday.

First the poem I wrote yesterday, then the poem I wrote today:

Moon-Dial
----------

Assumed were the measurements of time. Assumed were
Our collapse and our redemption. For I gazed
Upon night's clockwork, the moon's sundial before me.
And Luna, Earth's glowing companion, rose above us,
Above the clouds of my psychosis. And it
Begat the shadow via a cursive gnomon.
And it told me of the hours, of the minutes,
Of such a glass sphere hovering within our souls.
Oh, it told me of my own mind. And I knew
That time would be forgotten when the daylight
Tempts us each to wake. And I tasted that shadow
Of purity and sentiment. Then I recoiled from
This moon-dial, from what is an inert and spiraled
Hourglass, from what was but a strange and
Subtle depiction of gibbous lines, of encirclement.
.
.
.
Ornithopter
-------------

This is the contraption epitomizing all
And its eternity, epitomizing zero and its finitude.
This is the mind's wing, is the intellect's ascension,
Is the ornithopter both delicate and artificial,
Neither truthful nor inarticulately imagined.

This is the machine that flies through the sphere,
Is the strange tableau of wires and cloth and
Stone inept in its hallucination. This is our
Human entitlement, is our dominion raised
To believe in that which is above us. This is
The air engulfing our shape, is the redemption
Of our previous failures. And I will depict
My verticality within the wisps I create. And
I will finally be what no one else can be,
Will finally float upon our reality, float as but
A remarkable bird, as but the metaphor I transcend,
As but the certainty seen in our sky, as
Our presumptions of surrender denied, our presumptions
Of every chasm overcome.


Yeah, that's what it's about....

Okay, since I posted something really new, I will now post something really old. (Man, my style of writing has changed over the years.)

Photon
---------

Yet light is invisible.
We see it pass not
In front of our eyes
As it traverses the edges
Of the ether, of space-time.
We notice it not at all
As it becomes every color
In the rainbow, in our minds.
We notice not as it transforms
Its variations, its levels of gray.
Yet we perceive its presence
In dreams, while our eyes
Are shut tightly.
This is the paradox
Of light, of particles
Becoming waves.
This is the illusion
Of truth, the truth
Of illusions made flat.
This is the paradox
Of the invisible becoming
That which enlightens us.


Well, I am in a hurry to get out of here. So I will have to leave you without any final thoughts. (Sucks for you...)


Thanks,
Leroy Quet