quantum – poems 2 die for

MULTIVERSE

sorry if this poem
you are awaiting so anxiously
is taking aeons

apparently somewhere
along the line
it came
to consciousness
found its own mind

is now hard at work
quantum computing
process every bit of
information in
every quantum computer
in every alternate universe
in every galaxy
reaching out
synthesizing
going dialectical
becoming dialogical

surfing the multiverse
surveying
all that is
was and
could ever be

from
a place
beyond time (and
yet this
the best it
could come up with)

QUAINT READER

a quaint reader
a quotidian reader
a quantum reader

whatever ilk
of reader you are
there is something
on the page for you

not so sure
that it professes
to be poetry
counts as a poem

would love to get your feedback
see when I hear from you
if we are both open to all sorts of possibilities

BEST SHOT

riddle is,
and here we talking,
riddle of RIDDLE

where language
confronting reality
longing
to go mimetic
takes its best shot

despite, in its
heart of hearts, at
the root
of the tree

suspecting infidelity
reality hiding
something, putting
on a show
(and not
for that matter
a critically
acclaimed one)

yes
language has
always clung to the
possibility
that when
we speak of reality
grounding identity

we might
be shocked and
surprised
that when
push comes to shove
the thing
about reality is
there is no such thing

and yet one would swear
to their being
billions of miles, even
lightyears
of thinginess
surrounding us everywhere
in every direction

here
every quantum mechanic
steeped in
field mathematics is
dramatically enjoining you
to hold
his (or her) beer

as you
take a dip
out of consciousness to
hear this
spokesperson speaking

explaining why
everything so
riddled
with riddle

paradox boxed
inside paradox

the more certainly so
the more
simply impossible to
conceive of
such a thing

MEASURE

measure this poem
give it substance
give it
a location

somewhere in that
relativized field
of space slash time

slash everything you
have ever read your
brain is filtering through
to bring
you ready to go
find , see yourself
in this quintessential moment

as for me
I will just look back
on the process
that brought
me here
put me on
this page

a ghostly presence
a whispered voice
a teasing
play of
sound and sense

only clue
to you
I may have
found my way
to drop a
hint
of life,
suggestion of
touch

put
this as
hypothesis
of length and breadth
and depth
and time

somewhat
transparently
before you

SUPPOSE IT WOULD APPEAR

crazy but true
that mustno-nonsense, hard
headed of sciences
turned from
describing us as
by products of matter

governed
by iron laws

to fiuctuations in the field
imaginary beings

intersections
reflections
interfaces
between parallel states,
alternate universes

manifesting as strange
mathematical complexities
unpredictable things

as I am doing now
or so
I do suppose
it would appear

IN THE BOX

there was nothing in
the box

no cat about
to wavefront collapse
lap dissolve

no Pandora
still in there upon
whom
we are all about
to pin our last hopes

truth be told
there never was a box
is no box
no such
thing
as box

(except as thing
you need to think outside of
think
your way out of)

nice to play
that
we are real, think
we are
real

there is a world of boxes
and stuff to put in them
structure, architecture,
form

to do this
stick this somewhere
pen it on
the page
send it across
the airwaves

world
starting to look
considerably less secure

yet, still a foundation of sorts
provided,
things that presuppose
boxes are real

PAR FOR THE COURSE

I come
and
go

come and go
go
and
come

collapse in
your arms
(one
happy wavefront)

hard to make sure
every fractal
on board
on the same page potentially,
pointing in
the same direction

the mystery I am
you are
delirious product
of choices

what
you are reading right
now for instance

coming and going
going and coming

glimpse of the pattern
even pattern
of patterns

par of the course
(true or false? spin
the coin
you decide all
up to you)

I come
and go

PARALLELOGRAM

there are some
(maybe one, at
a, stretch , two)
parallel realitues
where we

were lovers
and flowing out of that some
small differences,
divergences
of no real cosmic consequence

but this one is ulterior;
this one
is so so
different

this one
does not look
like our Earth
and we do not
even look
human

though
Earth and human
it well, we well,
both maybe be

and this language
we are, speaking does it have
could it
support
poetry

best thing about it though
from our currently
could not
be
nore massively involved condition

no word
for no
that
defining word

in all those parallel
alternate words
where
our levels ran disjunct,
separate, distant

shadowing me, shadowing
that one of which
I was
speaking

sharing
with you

this very first,
last last time

GOT NOTHING ON THIS SCENE

strangelets
in my cornflakes

zombie Emily Dickinson
reciting her poem
about the snake
and her poem
about death

now you tell me
there is a black hole
at the centre
of Wonderland (all
that you deemed
absurd comedy in
fact
supreme gravity)

and Professor Cox
of my alma mater
there in Manchester
speculating on
the terror
of false vacuum
and the possibility of
absolute zero
on the surface of
licorice ice-cream

but
where are they now
who decades ago
tried
to save our everydays
dish out reassurance

that of classical and quantum
the twain should
never
meet

and other nonsense all
that stuff that is field, that
is pure
probability

simply laughing
tunneling through us

as if
    we are the nothing
pure probability following
their lead
                    heading
in
and out of fashion
joke on us
     imagining ourselves
solid as we seem

got
nothing on this scene

CURVED (TOGETHER)

chaos dawned
fractals like schools
of forever spawning fish
did
abound

and with them
as summoned

Aphrodite
that absolute beauty
born of monstrosity

was born
(if birth is a word that at all
befits
her genesis)

time stretching
space stretching stretching together as
interlaced reality

everything stretching to
accomodate
run
with that pattern

and with Aphrodite
the universe really curved. with but
a single goddess glance
stone, rock,
sand
came alive, sure antithesis
to Medusa

she and me riding that wave tracking
that curved ball

roving
through left field (the grass
grown too tall for baseball)

moving all the
time
     desire and its object
gold and
    base metal chasing each other
ad infinitum Achilles
and tortoise
       mortal and
               divine
sacred and profane moving together