poem poetry science humanity

STICK

stick to atoms
it is what
you are good at

how can you
escape being
miniscule
if this
is what
you are?

but
big bang too
your soul
ready to mushroom
in power and
glory up
to Heaven

shimmer of light
and
no one
is home
connection
is fried

but something even
smaller
hard tp pin down
stick (that
word again) a
detailed
label upon

this smaller that you
dissolve into
gives
me a
crazy map
down into your
possible probable
sides

and what binds us
has us
moving, swaying as
one
in the wave dance
of all that is
suspended between

so-called real and
so-called unreal

idea
and its every outcome

we quietly, despite
ourselves working in this

the pieces
finding themselves
in place

chaos
and perfect
symmetry

MATCHSTICK

was thinking of
a thougjt experimemt
with matchstick men

not involving
time and sunbeams

light
split by gravity
from
a distant galaxy
a million years
took to get here

who knows how
much has changed
if anything is
left there

or it can give me fuel
for my thought experiment

which involves
imagining a world
where these figures of
matchstick
do not keep ending up
setting themdelves alight

or fattening themselves up
with demonic projection
with shadow matter
to become
multi-dimensional, warpers
of the fabric
of the Universe
in their
own right

building such figures
in their own image

only
able to
self-duplicate

hold in each flawless hand
the truth, the logic
every secret of fire

key to
forever advancement

sublime destruction