9. SCIENTIFIC PAPER I dripdrop a love poem into a hypertext and the other way round and the words ‘She breathes a poisonous magic’ Stand out in an otherwise beautiful poem And someone spots a tap and hack into the grammar of light And knowing a mushroom is an energy symbol, Realizes the line looks almost like an artistic rewrite of einstein, In fact looks almost like ‘mc squared =’ And is simply = A few years later I write a file on an offline computer Which converts itself to a code Like the man in the film ‘pi’, Yes, the computer spews out an anti-rain of uniform slashes Like a Weather Theatre’s rain to arraign and inveigh against political reality And you can Picture the whole file looking Like a word=walk to antithesis, a tricky bit in the middle Of a movement from significance to signification, that goes ////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// Thirdly I am struck by a purple light Emanating from the computer screen Allowing an indoor sunset at night To coat the walls of my room With crepuscular, numinous twilight, Almost a featherlite love poem shop, yes Shushed, useless and priceless Which seems the apposite logical progression And makes me Search the memorywell for words And questions such as Is it a musical orgasm Is it Derridean differAnce Is it something I said Is it a precious moment in the history of art Film music science poetry Is it a website called my computer And Should I point you to the poem before the invisible mushroom Which is like a riddle, more of a slowspell Whose answer is the Latinate and feminine Quieta? I have no complaints about the daintiness of this love poem Except that it seems to be undeniable genius And lucy is flying and I cannot get out of it And the evidence seems to suggest that I wrote it And going back to Quieta cannot be done. How can I catch it How can I say it How can I mark it How can I measure it how can I unpack it how can I give it as a present to the barmaid Jade how can I express it scientifically except back in love and I love you? the words very Rimbaudian are not misapplied given he constructed the colours of the vowels and to my meager mind left out the colour that shines from this very screen on which I write so many papers and poems as if the presence of the absence of purple and the absence of the presence of purple would be the instinctive unconscious recognition that is the first building block of that international language for which he specifically states ‘I reserved translation rights’ Meaning I have a slight problem In knowing too much and I have the solution Which is that trust is stronger than the colours of the vowels Until irony is so strong That it is as strong as the colours of the vowels And while the third fine parallelism is death, At this point I receive a text message from Orange. How to abstract and extricate a paper on this colour, From a data-tree in which the papers sit, like a closed file that is a website all of its own And how to publish what is here in print In colour, and extricate verbal paper And put it on the internet for publication Could be the P1 problem in the Popperian sense Although I can write isomething well and send it And post it online without breaking the spell Or cursing the machine to lose its colour And such bewilderingly complex questions possibly infer I am losing it whatever it may be. I picture the photo of the leaf posted on facebook And the man watching the leaf not fall for hours And the third party of someone else Aross the world watching the photo And still the lifey leaf not falling for hours Even though that is in the end to be its function And derive the saying ‘ai am ia’ In which the word ‘am’ Is as important as the others. I picture the printer who makes a noise Redolent of a porous and osmotic phrase On Thomas Ades’ ‘Asyla’ - Say A Stylus DX440 – - Whose name is then posted to facebook - With a hyperlink to the music - And how the printer’s ink can disappear - Without anyone truning it on - Because that is the function of the machine - Whereas the photo of a paitning posted - Will not mean the painting disappears - Because that is not a painting’a function - Although the evidence does mean - That all of a sudden the painting does not disappear - Becom,es a startling moment perhaps of ecstasia - The suspension of all judgment in ancient Greece - Or peripetia – a moment iof inversal of furtune. I picture the coin on the palm and the palm being upturned then reverted to its flat map of sound position so fast that the coin never falls don and gravity for a split second is but a concept in a world of a different scale; I also picture Hegel’s statement on the word black momentarily and philosophically endorsing the concept of white Still the screen pumps the crepuscular purple milk Even as a I write, a very dry wine, A sacharrine looking emotion Like a computer that has learned empathy and shadows this beatific glow this holy aura [possibly something like an historical aura Surrounding a work like the mona Lisa] All over the room, even as I write And fight to understand and own what I have done. At night I escape into a heightened dream From a dull and longing sleep and The stars murmur their cool ballad in the sky And secrets hang like ghosts in the corner Of my wanton world all blurred and drugged too deep. I know that she loves me, from The dagger in her soft reply, and the questions Concealed in her eyes; Her smile is a luring prism; her blink is a beautiful danger, her breath a poisonous magic. I allow that silence let slip its whisper, And her dimples a new form of grammar, And Yes is the enormous, heavenly answer To all the questions under the sun. Good things come to those who wait In a periodic table of one altered state
Posted on: Sat, 22 Jun 2013 03:49:30 +0000
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