First picture: "Artificial Vastness". Second picture: "Observe". Third picture: "Ring Of Invisible Dawn". Fourth picture: "An Annulus Subsiding". And last picture: "Axis Spilled".
Despite The Torus
-------------------
Despite the torus, among this dichotomy seen
Was all that is displaced by the curl, by
The essence of assumptions made true.
And in this ring was such magnification,
Was sad light and humorous electricity.
Inside the hollow of this annulus was drawn
The flames of metamorphosis, was drawn
The magnetism once thrust through
These wires and coils and pivots spinning.
Oh, thoughts of implosions reoccur simply
As I run and fly upward. And then
The machine contorts truncated time; it
Conjoins the certainty of our reality's
Constituents. And it composes the voices
Of this posture, composes the subtext
Of exactness without edges, without
Any beheld representation.
=========
Entropy Withers
----------------
Half torn, fully crushed, this purity of space-time
Engulfs us anew. Seemingly we spill the protrusions
Back against the delicate floor.
Entropy withers; it reiterates its dire task.
Empathy whispers; and then we flee the dream.
And then we flee the containment of truth.
Oh, we flutter in our sad frustration. But
We exaggerate our jaggedness, for it is stained.
And we tear the hollowness and become it.
We rip the tangles from these atoms and quarks.
And we ascend into the annulus within us.
We hoist our begging brains through this
Pit inside our imagination. And, furthermore, we
Extract from our longing the patterns and enigmas.
Then we pass, until all is behind us, until
Our water is fluid, until it is again tilted
By its own passive suggestion.
++++++++++++
Tapered Spinning
-------------------
Such perspective is contained inside
Its distant center, within again its edge --
Its edge: The thickening and evolving point
Of equilateral appendages, of subdivided
And intersected radii formed from their beginning,
Formed from the very middle of this turning,
Of this constancy invoked then hidden.
And that image is collapsing into the coarseness
Which surrounds a bisected and vanishing annulus.
That parable is shrinking into the heights
Of our suppositions, is shrinking from
This origin of sacrosanct perpendicularism,
From the tapered spinning of that repetition,
Of this recollection captive within its expression.
...........
Those Annuli Elongated
---------------------------
Perpendicular, beautiful, invisible, obscured; oh,
Each edifice of envisioned dawn, it achieves
Its expansion despite the minutia equal to its blood.
Such encloses the seed within that glass, within
The vials of circles and refraction. Oh, each
Molecule of angry light, it is the spiral inside,
Inside where I have endured, where I have erased
The cursive perspectives of our lapse. Yet, yet
Perpendicular is the flower; for it tilts imperfectly.
Beautiful is the contemplated rain; for it forgets.
Invisible is the sky, because it is our observation.
And obscured, obscured is the dream by itself --
Yes, it has surrendered the shredded scrawl
To those ceasing sparks of innocence, to precisely
Those annuli elongated but perplexingly undefined.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The Rings Transposed
-----------------------
The rings transposed -- from white to black,
Left to right -- black to white, right to left.
Oh, unchanged is the image within its position.
Unchanged is absolution and abstraction. Ha.
I am hideous beauty. I am the changer
Of such rings, perhaps. Perhaps I am the other,
I am the other perception remaining.
Perhaps I am the transparence of these
Annuli. For in their desires I am
Observed -- I am the divisive rotation made
From left wrongly right, from right
Incorrectly left, from the inexact appearances
Of this inversion, of this enlightenment dim
But always as strange as
Any of these forgotten crescendos.
ooooooooooo
The Semicircle Evokes
-----------------------
Compressed and stained, the crescent passing
Through the ring is our evolution, is its
Own meandering expression. Against the inside
Of this torus, the concave embodiment
Turns and reiterates its flatness. Yet it is
Plush and voluminous. It is the prong,
Is the plaid, is the ascendance within itself.
Oh, compressed and stagnant, the semicircle
Evokes its scribbled asymmetry, evokes its
Amorphous truth now obvious, now implied.
And nothing is determined or ascertained via
This tableau. Although reality imagines
It to be halved; but I imagine it to be
Trisected. But we imagine it to be absolute
In its entirety, in its worthiness devoid
Of any antecedent.
**********
Three-Fourths
---------------
Three-fourths a ring without center, without
Any hole but the single point in amongst me --
I look upon such a torus. And in it is
The arc of triangular cosmos, is the coil
Of concurrent shape. And I cling to this
Dichotomy of unpredictable darkness. For it
Is erect, rising from the tableau. It is
And incomplete, yet beautiful, circle, is but an
Ellipse compressed and punctured. Oh, I am
Obsessed with the images of symmetry and,
Therefore, of asymmetry. I am as opaque as
All reality. And I touch the substance; I am
Touched by these sharp cusps. Ah, I am
Enumerated, as are all perplexing assumptions.
And I formulate my dreams from three-fourths
Of this concentric truth yet specious but
Restlessly sculpted and then, afterwards, conceived.
##############
Edges Of The Torus
-------------------------
I saw every irrational number expressed
In terms of itself, each finding an unexpected
Purpose, an unreal implication, within
The lattice, the grid containing all
Colors, yet somehow none still.
And none, nothing is the thoughts’ motivation,
Not a fragment of any state of this
Computer, this mind we have come to
Know, nothing at all finally explores
The edges of the torus, the vertexes
Of the knot intertwined with every
Abstraction, every simple design
Representing the entire vacuum.
And my awareness gasps for knowledge,
Fears the suffocation of ignorance.
So I gaze at the focal-point in hopes
That all reciprocals summed would
Still ironically find their finite limit,
In hopes that all integers are ultimately
Equal to one, equal to zero finding
Its once-hidden substance.
""""""""""""""""""
Drawing Rings
------------------
I draw the rings around us,
I take my dream and surround us.
I understand the photons only,
I have been rendered so lonely.
I ask the questions invisible,
I ask the riddles unseen,
I speak the colors encircled,
I speak of madness quite mean.
You come to me and then hide,
You move through doors inside.
You ever make your own sight,
You always take dimmest night.
You draw the rings around us,
You once saw the images in glass,
You might somehow gaze inward,
But your world, your stars, now they pass,
...Oh, they always indeed do pass.
---
Thanks,
Leroy Quet
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