cosmology

HOT PIZZA

stuff boiling over
in the microwave

a saga of a story there
in background radiation

you
mistook at first
for chicken shit
but there
you are with that
noble Nobel gong
around your
neck

showing off
as if you were prizefighter

speaking of which you
and I
traded enough blows
in our protracted experiment
in trying
to combine the races

brutal repertoire, need
a fencing master
speciality rapier
   to teach
us the
    more nuanced moves
and simple strategies
of thrust
and parry
    thrust and parry

honestly man to man
woman to man
for every ruffle
in the fabric
of our repertoire
and artful
continuity

so long story short (and
short one
long
bedevilled by
much innuendo

here we slice and dice and
roll the base

pizza
destined for some
serious temperatures

cooking together in synch,
in formation
flat
surface
to flat surface, generating
dynamism, building
connection

suddenly in such asymmetry
that climbing, climbing,
Carolina
Reaper hot, before
you say
caldera things
might just explode, go

rags to riches, order
to entropy

everything in our purview
given much
ecstatic Christening
before the end of the day

stuff
as ever, as never

boiling over in the microwave

INCH PERFECT

needed an inch
of space
to write
in this place

come up with a killer
thought experiment

to out-think Einstein,
Oppenheimer,
Wittgenstein
and Kurt Godel

in which
we could be
travelling on a light beam
falling
in an elevator

or simply lying on
a blanket at night
cataloguing
pin-pricks
of light

which being
Sun-sized, planet-
sized
the size of whole galaxies
much bigger
than emojis

thinking here of the
distant and diffident
terminally inscrutable not
the smiling, laughing,
leering,
utterly idiotic and
totally brainless kinds

and you on the blanket
sharing my space-time, in
fact
our shared
and joint creation

waiting for
true feedback, the cosmos
out there
in here
to detail its cracks, to
show its face

to make
this a night of serious surprises
with we
two so

tuned in
how could it fail to be

AGAIN

if the Universes
fancies itself
to be
a simulation

who
am I to disagree?

decry the fiction
abhor that our reality
should
present itself a sheer
illusion

two-dimensional hologram
mapped out into three

upon which
all our projections be
fully encoded

but
if this be so

then why
so much brutality, pain
and suffering

and why
when the last sun dies
signalling the arrival
of ultimate
ending

do I have to
word for word live
out
the reset

follow the script
from the star-
forged formation
of my molecules

through birth
to death and

what
sleep extends?

COSMETIC

to the best
of my knowledge

no one asks
the planets
the stars
the galaxies
about their loneliness

not a single poet
single cosmologist

and so to
Earth

for God knows
how many centuries
the centre of everything

Hubble bubble
popped that one
didn’t he

back to Earth exquisitely
nothing special

we got mountains we
got oceans
boy have
we got oceans

but under this curved sky
this vault of blue atmosphere

at least
talk of beauty, the cosmos
cosmetic

to the best of my knowledge

a magical alluring mystery
spectacle

almosr too far away
for light to travel

your dance of seven veils
alluding
to our source tempting
our return
.
and me in the back row
with much undersized telescope
longing for the front row
a window seat
somewhere close relatively
speaking
where at least I feel I
can reach out and touch

this routine so exactly
choreographed, yet primal
and chaotic
is thing you have wanted
me to witness
for billions
of yesrs

but the laws that say I am
a bit underaged to be
witnessing this
let alone understand it

tell you that
your moves are slowing
getting stretched out
breaking
dissolving

and this I can see
hear explained by
cosmic dude on
my cellphone (Cox,
Greene, Kaku, Hawking or Tyson)

time will come
when you have Medusaed
yourself
are iron cold and
a statute

and me, as
for me

long long before then
will have deserted the scene
me and my
world well
out of popcorn

this great gorgeous
cinema a thing
of the past (though
no future or past)

BILLBOARD

what if I told you
the cosmos is just
a billboard?

a two dimensional image
projected into full 3D
to advertise
some forthcoming
attraction

and maybe (not
promising anything)
this a picture
in which

your atoms
could well feature

not in
the form

you find
them now

not as happy a fit,
or much, much better

CLOUDLESS

a cloudless sky
stopped my scarlet red
Citroen
to open the farm gate

cannot pretend to
understand the physics of
colour or
indeed, the physics
of sky
you lost me as soon
as you spoke of wave-lengths
and light diffusion

but here we are (or at least, here
I am, your presence with me
somewhere
between metaphor and
simple rhetorical gesture)

here we are
as if shielded from
the Universe (which is
the case exactly) virtue of
us being
(no clouds
to distract me) right
at the epicentre of
a surrounding sphere, looking
out from
inside the skin, the translucent
skin
of a beautiful blue ball

expanded to a size, a height,
that just works for us perfectly

reminding me
as this time of ultra
advanced return
of feudalism
of the music
of the spheres

with all that economy
with all that cosmology

nothing in a million years here close to
that darkest conclusion

that things beyond this
blue bubble

moving away from us so fast
they are
beyond
all
   Doppler red-
shift
     beyond very
                  speed of light

and
so

back down
to Earth as always
for
sheer preservation
of sanity, not

let all this here
overwhelm me

wanting
those clouds back

wanting not to imagine myself
inside the skin
of anything

wanting
to just go
where it is all heading
commit
to that glow

light speed beyond
but (blessing of
relatvity) with it

one
feels

just
floating

moving in one’s mind
from
incarnation to
incarnation

no desire
to be laboured by

understand
the physics at all

Tag Archives: cosmology