This first picture is titled "Surreal Stench". This has nothing to do with astronomy per se. But it looks like a super-nova at the point it first begins to rupture, in my opinion.
The second picture is titled "Of Cosmic Sands". Those are little tiny stars that are in this hourglass.
The third picture is titled "Tincture Of The Sparks". This picture looks kind of like a star in among other stars, perhaps.
And finally, the last picture is "A Powder Putrid And Placid". (No, that isn't cocaine.) This picture reminds me a bit of "Of Cosmic Sands". The powder is the stuff of stars and of space itself. If you don't believe me, then pretend it is just salt.
I will only post a few poems about stars, cosmos, etc, far fewer than the number of poems I have written on the subject.
First, a short old poem:
Corona Of The Moon
---------------------------
The corona of the moon
Burned brilliantly in my neon-red dreams,
Filling my obsessions with smoke
And a dawn still sleeping.
The stars in my mouth
Emanated as rainbows unto the earth,
This planet encased in ice and apparitions,
Turning at many angles
All simultaneously.
.............................................
Okay, next, a much newer poem:
A Horizon Without Curvature
----------------------------
Beyond my destitute soul, there is expressed
A horizon without curvature, with its trite sky.
And I stand upright so as to peer again
Past the lines, past their origin forgotten.
And I see the dawn emit its riddles,
Emit its images regarding truth. And I wonder,
What is reality, whether observed or obscured?
Where is the blasphemous sun hiding? Beyond,
Beyond my solitude's triumph, there I wake.
There I understand that I cannot fly. And so
I am beheld in my assumptions. For I know
That this dawn is entwined with dusk, know
That beyond, there underneath that which is
Eternal, there I turn sideways, as the stars.
And I am confused by these ghosts of selfishness,
Am confused by a horizon irradiant and unfolding.
..............................................
A poem from I-don't-know-when:
The Stars Of That Vanishing Darkness
--------------------------------------
Daylight overtakes the night -- And the stars
Of that vanishing darkness, they transform
Into their invisibility.
Those celestial suns, massive and distant
And unobvious to human understanding, they
Hide behind the tapestry cast by morning. They
Spite their geometry; yet they also occlude
Their own dreams. These poignant points
Of extroverted flame, they are extinguished as
The new moon, defiled and thrown into oblivion
By the grandest amber of unseen white,
By the ironic blackness inside such circumference.
For here the stars are sustained, although made
Brighter still than every dawn, made brighter
Than before when the dimness was nocturnal.
=================
An oldie:
The Invisible Moon
------------------------
She knew her powers had waned.
Her days of being worthwhile,
Of being a goddess unsurpassed,
Of possessing a virtue of beauty
That inspired poets, lovers, dreamers,
Murderers, thieves, and demons alike,
These days have fallen into pasts gone,
Into pasts secluded in darkness.
For she was now unseen;
She was now the new moon
In the savage daylight.
She was invisible;
And so her magic failed.
The sun laughed at her. But she knew
That she had company with the stars,
Those trillions of souls also invisible,
Also hidden from this reality illuminated.
And she plotted her return to grace,
To an existence where she reigned again.
For she would then cast her spell
Over the night. And the sun,
It would be powerless to interfere.
Yes, she would again in a future night,
With the stars as her court,
Rule over this world of visions.
+++++++++++++++++++
Okay, one more. (This poem mentions hourglasses too.)
The Gaze Inward
-----------------------
Introverted is each concubine of our dismemberment,
Is every tranquil hourglass of salt, of sand,
Of stars, of cobwebs, of bubbles rising
Unto any epitome of oblivion.
And outward is the gaze inward, is
What was once imagined. For
I discovered this skin to be only
Compacted retribution made linear,
To be resolution made eccentric but stale,
Made vacuous but bisected, made solitary
And psychedelic and intuitively divergent,
Made lonely within these desires, within
Lust seemingly vanquished, seemingly
Prolonged, seemingly such a tempting equation.
Thanks,
Leroy Quet
No comments:
Post a Comment