Ellipsoids

Today's theme is ellipsoids. (An ellipsoid, for those of you that do not know, is a 3-dimensional form made my rotating an ellipse along one of its axes. An ellipsoid is also a squished or elongated sphere, to put it much too simply.)

First the pictures. The first is "As Will Be Forgotten". The black-and-white picture is "Inevitable Dream". And the third picture is "Simile".
Also, I could have included the picture of mine "Profound Trapezoid" that is included in one of my earliest posts here (posted on July 20, 2008 -- that post was also named "Profound Trapezoid").





Now the poetry:

An old one:

An Ellipsoid Constructed
-------------------------------

*Oblivion -- a product of words spelled ex nihilo,
Spelled in medias res, of letters but in obvious
Permutations very inappropriate and imprecise --
*Oblivion -- a sum unexpected or somehow
Glowing as it is spoken, as it
Screams again onto all, onto
The perfect void ...
Unto one zero (the epitome of
Equality or the equality of epitomes).
*Oblivion --a simplest abstraction
Simply a calculation, steady or yet to be,
Yet to be printed as unreal smudges
And pencilled lines so unstraight or (again)
Unimplied by the ideal on which all is
Only graph-paper somehow un-cubical,
Somehow un-octahedral, un-dodecahedral, and
Not of any sphere (any sphere of any shape).
*Oblivion -- an ellipsoid constructed
From only this which nonexists,
Yet is constructed into something true,
Into absence as its very presence,
As its creation and its contemplation
From/of the arrangement of the entirety of
Integers positioned as if they will always be
Aperiodic.

---------------------

An Ellipsoid Subtly Tapering
-----------------------------

The egg extends to become its flatness. Yes,
Its yolk is eviscerated by this image of truth.
Could I taste the ghost within me? For it too
Is spherical. It too is glistening. Oh, wet is that
Yellow purity, is the symbolism we remake. Oh,
I smash that meaningless stone, then transfuse
Those liquid assumptions into my convalescence.

The egg, it is certain of its flavor, of its shape.
And such mutations of specks inflame our perversion.
Such profound and dismal curvature,
It is my undenied blood. It is that substance
Resting sideways. It is both diagonal and vague
In its concentricity. For jagged are the crumbs of
Reality's androgynous ellipsoid subtly tapering.


===================

Any Ellipsoid Of Any Darkness
-------------------------------

The ellipsoidal shadow is drawn upon miniscule light.
And in its shade is my indifference, is my forgetfulness,
Is each thought unmade and unpronounced. I behold
What I have held above my brain. And then
I overwhelm the sacred night; for it is dead in its
Magnitudes, in its treason. And, thus, the dawn obscures
That moon without eclipse. And yet I see its blackness
Ascending to its own torment. Thus, the earth transforms
A dim tantrum into such a sky. But I know that
Beyond every hexagon is eternity truncated surely.
Beyond every angry tear is our reality soothed.
Oh, this truth has parted from all humanity.
And it flies past every shadow of any shape,
Past any ellipsoid of any darkness once periodic,
Once afloat in the cosmic shame of our understanding.

++++++++++++++++++

I might have posted this poem already. I am too lazy to check, however, so I will just post it.

The Shape Of Shapes
---------------------

The shape of the image of all shapes -- I envision
Its vertices to be symmetrical about a scalene edge.
I envision the perimeter of its interior to be elegant,
To be the smoothness of such tautology, of such topology.
And yet it is abstract and ellipsoidal. And yet the curl
Of the straightness extends into its extrapolation.
And I see the depictions of every maze, of
Each vision conceived and pronounced. I see
The vast prism of careless hues. And I saw
The hallucination of hallucinations, saw the light
Vaguely drawn upon its cloth. And I wondered,
What are these geometries encompassing? Are the
Shapes of shapes equal to their dominion? Or
Are the syllables encased in those loops? Are they
Finite and yet aesthetic and somehow bland? For,
I wonder if I can even observe this curvature, wonder
If I have simply forgotten those cosmic silhouettes
Of our withered eyes succumbing.

.............................

I might have already posted this poem too. As the second poem in this post, the following poems is also about an egg.

The Egg Pretended
--------------------

The egg pretended to envelope itself in its
Pretension. And it pretended to redeem itself
In consequence and trite shadows. For it
Contained a white of imbalance and purity.
Yet, such was selfish, if it too was bland.
It contained a yolk of its own ghost. And
In this yellow syrup of implication, it saw
The shapelessness of perfect substance. And
Surrounding that dichotomy of white and yolk
Was the frail skin of soft solidity, the shell.
And such a coarse glass of calcium carbonate
Faltered. Then it shuddered, then split, forming
The lines askew of random firmament. This bone,
This ellipsoid, it cracked. And forth came our
Longing and chasm. Forth came our betrayal
Never to be remade. For the young bird
Is to die. And the flesh of this zoological seed
Excretes until we provoke its timidity. And we
Pretend that we did not shatter that egg.
We pretend that it is meaningless to our
Dream, pretend that it was meaningless to
Our decay overwhelmed by such circumvention.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

(I guess I could have also posted here the other picture that I posted as part of the message "Profound Trapezoid". That picture, "The Shape Of Meaning", is of an egg.)

Thanks,
Leroy Quet