Hey, everybody. Be sure to go back and read all of my posts to this blog you might have missed! Remember that there are also posts older than those on the front page. (Click on "older posts" at bottom of first page to get to those.) I think that as of now, there are posts older than those on the SECOND page as well. (Click on "older posts" at bottom of second page to get to those, I think.)
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The pictures for today's post: Made yesterday and today.
Inscribed Into Dimensions
Transversals Ceasing
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A relatively subtle joke:
(Apologies to Steven Wright and Rodney Dangerfield, jokes from both of whom have inspired this plagiarized joke.)
(Revolution!)
I would have voted for the Anarchy Party,...
... but it doesn't exist.
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Okay, here is the poem I wrote today. Enjoy (or not, more likely...).
The Thread, The Rope, And The Wire
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This one sharp thread, it ceases in its perpendicularity
With the rope beneath it; it ceases exactly as a
Cusp upon the very edge of bundled filaments and
Contemplation. And before its terminus, it loops
In a billowing arc; then it becomes that
Same rope that cursed it. And in its
Widening, its dual also loops and ceases
Upon the cusp of rope-versus-thread. But
The counterpart continues in its extension
Downwardly, and it becomes a wire. And
That wire contains a current of such magnetism,
Of such refracted dreams recreated. Yet, none
Of these strands are braided in their variations.
None of these cusps and loops merge unto the
Fading integers inscribed. Oh, the thread, the
Rope, and the wire are abruptly without
Purpose. But they serve my poetry, surely. They
Therefore are despised in their fraying, in
Their words we drink strangely then soothe
In these focused lines of elongation, of transversals.
(Note the word "transversals" is in both the poem and in one of the pictures' names above.)
Leroy
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