A mathematical poem, a seeing of The Beloved in the scheme of how all bends, curls, unfolds. Macaroni Lips I’m pouting a Fibonacci sequence, a phyllotaxis of impatience, a fern unfurling, the fine pout of a pineapple sprout. Dont you know that the Golden Spiral is just my pout while waiting for you, my pine to uncurl you? The sunflower inflorescence of universes, the Chamomile spiral complexity of cosmoses is just my simple upside down macaroni-lips pout. Kiss my macaroni lips, kiss me mid-sequence. Un-spiral the me in everything, whorl the stars I exhale back into my mouth. See the sequence of missing you you put me through? How my pout started all of this? How the song of everything springs from the arrangement of my turned down lips from the forehead of my longing all the universes are one big curve of macaroni, waiting fir, me curling for your kiss?
Posted on: Sun, 23 Nov 2014 22:06:34 +0000
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