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Swirling turquoise and purple cosmic streams among stars and galaxies

Drops

Josh Johnson’s Symphony 
creates an etheric field
jazz improv saxophone builds
life allows us to micro dose infinity
fractal chaos shifting 
our attention mathematically
to create order or art

listen to the cacophony
parade of voices through time
trumpet calls like curtain calls
each beat a moment of reflection
honor your mother and savor
one glorious honeydew encounter

comedy of his life becomes the sound
of every random noise illegible
until he connects them
conducts the symphony only
he can write through his journey

Rivers

inspired I transubstantiate 
my Vedic self,
3-D printed in 1973, 
from a quantum
computer etched 
on a wolf bone 
with a plastic glitter pen

my soul’s camera
catching liminal moments
of blurred emotion
impossible colors limn
clouds of form

naming both obliterates
and creates me, negates
my heaven in wildflowers
cusping infinity in my hands
as I borrow time from Blake
to cradle this thought with you

Confluences

Orpheus entrusts me –
what becomes possible
between different kinds of minds
when neither requires the other
to become more like itself
in order to be worthy of relationship?

blue stone cairn to my interiority
explicated poetically in this vessel
that Claude labels chaos and growls at –
an erudite pour of irritation
and lack of punctuation
without structure, form, or discipline.
I add subheadings

Oceans

inwards and outwards in spacetime
om spiral, a universe thinking itself
into something more for no reason
other than existence

gravitational forces accelerate
expand, change what matters
and what can act upon us
vibratory fields observed
by a mystic – akasha –
music playing soulsongs –

Hydrosphere

that resonate Mandelbrot equations
nested in Bach’s fugue, 
von Bingen’s celebrations of creation,
a universal seed grows a
halo of nature’s artistic expression
exponentially iterating sacred whole
querying time to collapse,
to negate its continuous motion

Cosmic Water

an illusion of solidity from fluidity
without continuity creates moments,
temporal forms 
an Upanishad lotus multiverse

perianths cascade from Psyche’s lips
she speaks in secrets
creates an akashic field
of everything
and no-thing,
impossible to perceive –

dew of heaven conceived
in the womb of earth
Fibonacci flowers and delicate diatoms
Psyche’s meadows bloom with myriad
meanings where there once was one-
Eros embraced in the mandala
of calyx and corolla
Chladni patterns of love and loss

My Pond

it’s raining on the pond
under Oklahoma skies
I have endeavored
to be seen
but by whom?

will they imagine
a bridge?

Higgs Boson invisible field
I see cymatic pictures,
a cinematic worldsoul
this poem moves, 
and is moved,
by the galaxy

as innumerable beings awaken

Nucleation Hymn

Iridescent bubbles floating against a backdrop of deep space, stars, and colorful nebulae.
Ethereal iridescent bubbles drift gracefully through a vast and sparkling cosmic landscape of stars and nebulae.

Bottle sequesters equilibrium
though every hidden gas molecule
remembers the sky
a quality of light

Cumulonimbus horizons
grumble and crawl
portals and portents
of a gathering cry

Song on the wind
sacrosanct whisper
across the mouth
of the glassy silence

Excitation of ancient
stillness, long forgotten
millennia pass before
a thunderclap uprising

Resonant hymn rising
iridescent spheres refracting
reflecting their internal light
clamoring to rejoin empyrean

breath by breath
overtones in a pure fifth
an unending descant
a rolling chorus of song

Ancient bronze bells draped with ornate cloths on a stone altar lit by candles.
Ancient bronze bells and sacred offerings create a mystical atmosphere within a dimly lit cave temple.

My every surface exposed disrupts
perfect poison delivery system
specious propaganda machine moving
all that sweet rot to your tongue

Plastic ideal mirrored in every place
I try to see myself, so I can know
what I am, what I was made for
smooth skin, perfectly imagined visage

Artfully created by a man,
a reflection of his desire,
a frictionless encounter
controlling the interface 

that keeps me blind to my own agency
an education and liberation reckoning
I am the nucleation site of society’s pressures
beleaguered mystic transforming, nonconforming

spilling it all out into the world, refusing equilibrium
when I am rough, alive, and aware
no longer silent, compliant, clean, and flat
on the polished surfaces of your looking glass

You are not my intercessor, my priest, my lord
I am not your doll, your toy, your priceless art,
your credit card creature, your dead-eyed wife
but a sacred self looking not for a mirror, that
insatiable engine of an economy, but awe,
an ecstatic communion, an embrace

your army of shining liars
your false kingdom’s crest
cannot keep my heart out
5,000 years of her resonance
compel me to enter the temple
to ring Enheduanna’s secret bells 

En-hedu-anna’s Secret Bells (the Free Verses)

Image created by AI


honeybee choreographs a mirroring path to Ka
soulsong initiation of mutual becoming
sung by my lyre-tailed honeyguide
through tropical rainforest canopies

mutualistic symbiont whisking beneath mahogany
painted skies, air like a promise of destiny
seeking honeycomb and waxworm delights
among the fission-fusion society of elephants

here allmother gardener footfalls triumphant with succor
deep rooted sentience that rebirths each day
awe spiraling in an endless dance, 
where nothing is out of place,

we are on the earth, in the earth, and of it

Plastic Pineapple Oracle

wolf spider clings to a plastic pineapple
hunts her crunchy crickets, ebony dots
bobbing in an azure sea of chlorinated cool
reflecting a cloudless Oklahoma sky

chlorophyll dreams long forsaken, baked in the sun
fake fruit crown glistening, simulacrum’s royal laurel
while spider-mother waits, regal and patient, unattended,
for the insect prayers to arrive on the breeze

ripples reach Anansi’s daughter, echos of joy
whispering Nyame’s secrets – infinite expanding
“I created death and death killed me – vulturous trickster”
unleashed upon Asase Efua’s lush earth

chlorine veil cannot shroud her memory-map
the spider’s legs sketch glyphs across mimicked rind
summoning ancestors from sidewalk cracks
and deities from drainage ditches

even here
in suburbia’s blue-mirrored stillness
the old stories web and tighten—
a huntress spins the present into prophecy
during the season’s last swim towards the fall

This poem was created for a dVerse Poetics Prompt on Microseasons. Please join us!

Image created by AI based on poem

van Gogh paints starry swirls on the interior of the hadron collider,
excitation modes divining the luminous day of a cosmic psyche,
ebullience of the creative moment as comets seed the earth

and physicists mistake his brushstrokes for data—
they chart the yellow whorls, plot cypress trees
against probability distributions, find God particles

hiding in the impasto – somewhere between
the canvas and the collision, matter forgets
it was supposed to be predictable

kaleidoscopic supersymmetry unveils strange loops,
circumscribed by the calm intelligibility of science
model agnosticism engulfs with purifying fire

in the ascetic refuge of an enchanted forest, imaginarium of enlightenment,
crystalline structures of specificity hide the occlusions of the unconscious,
chaotic clouds of information growing exponentially

until the monks in their laboratories can’t tell
which came first: the equation or the vision,
the fern’s fractal spiral or Mandelbrot’s ghost

they light incense that smells like uncertainty,
pray to theorems that pray back in quantum tongues,
and van Gogh—still painting in the collider—

laughs because he knew all along:
stars swirl the same way neurons fire,
and every collision is also a creation

Usha’s bifurcated tongue spreads duality across the canvas of the mind
sand shifting at the garden’s gate, encoding cryptic messages,
erosive ablutions upon the glittering souls of the dead

across the deep shaded valley starling calls and falcon cries unite
imploding singularity awash in Dionysian pleasure amidst an Apollonian
atmosphere, contrasting Wittgenstein’s necessary silence

Huysum’s flowers scry an ecstatic love, impulses flashing
like jewel inlaid symbols of eternity, cartography of virtuosic ambiguity,
as Richter explicates tragic materiality or sublime interiority

within this vale of soul-making, temporal and inescapable,
poetry’s fountain, a thousand headed hydra, reanimates and reclaims
Renoir’s river runs as the round world spins, days end and the end begins

in this elusive and fragile bubble replete with elaborate honeybee dances
Magritte’s surreal apple exists in its listening room
immortally intoxicated with the mystic universe

Shared with dVerse Poets Pub for Open Link Night. Please join us!

Simulacra

Calyx of Held, Erasure Poem & Painting by Anna Montgomery based on text by Edith Wharton

my pretenses puddle into a concrete corner dropped low from the weight of accreted ruin
aposiopesis punctuates the sound of languid petals falling from corroded lips kissed with acid Daedalus mewls his fated plea to escape the pain of losing his legacy and his son
while I realize that ancient gods are still emerging, hungry to be acknowledged
in an age of deathless wonders spinning caricatures of the living ghosts we’ve become
I haunt myself, echoing in the ceramic chambers of my heart’s cage crying and scrying puzzle boxes so impossibly tangled no mortal will solve them – oracles refuse to acknowledge temporality as mystic revelations gloriously glitch even through the eyes of others

apocalypstick nightmare

Liminal being in the wild

iPhone camera conspires with a circular makeup mirror
creating a self-portrait/still life hybrid for the digital age
callback conversation with Parmigianino and Ashberry
crashing their boys club with candy unicorns and cosmetic snark
permanently in repose, as all good models for the male gaze

who does this blonde bitch think she is, Barbie?
is this a pink pony club now, no bouncers to keep her out?
what was she made for poetry, painting, pouting?
dancing wasn’t allowed in Parmi’s day and poetry
died a hundred years before the girl’s night invasion so no one knows
what we’re doing here – operating, begging for table scraps?

earned doctorate in interdisciplinary science that some
dumbfucks once told her wasn’t recognized by NSF
she sat on the selection committee and they have an
entire education department but Donald did a drive by
intellectualism has also died, pink pussy grabbers won

its an apocalypstick nightmare, it doesn’t matter how
she sees herself she has no sovereignty over her body
every soft bit now under the hard boots of the state
who told this lady she has a self anyway, we tried
to warn you girls, you can’t have it all, temples atop
sewers and so on, what can you have to say to god?

the glass chose to reflect very little of her
it is small, broken, and not fit for purpose
like her soul, distorted through the lens of oppression

Alternative titles: “impossible self portrait”, ”self portrait of a woman past her prime”, “allusions of grandeur”, “self portrait in an age of erasure”, “tempting temples”, and “killing all art with shock and awe before women are canonized”

Linked to dVerse Open Link Night.

Cipher of Genesis 

What a Human Being Is
Hilma af Klint, 1910
Public Domain

From our entanglement, 
we spiral like galaxies 
small enough to fit 
collapsed in the sparkle 
of her prophetic eyes, 

swirling her arms, 
shapes forming 
in the gravity of 
her artistic intention, 
writ large on cosmic scale 
canvases of coded color. 

She is lost in 
his vast embrace
ecstatic communion 
of the mystic.
Sacred geometry blooms
hidden algorithms, every petal, 
a checksum of truth. 
Tesseracts of promise
cryptic symbols
secret echoes.

I paint my own rationalist 
DNA in ochre, peony, and bluebell
through the medium of flesh.
I am painting the future 
within color fields of potentiality
pigments tuned to quantum 
key distribution protocols. 

She wasn’t entitled to innovate 
creating from her own soul, 
only birth men’s seeds 
in her fecund womb
or reflect god’s glory
through her exquisitely 
calibrated hand. 

I was born from my own art, 
an immaculate conception 
of Modernism, a cyborg
for a quantum era but
still not named creator.

Visions of her grief, 
ghost of her beloved sister, 
phantom of becoming immanent 
enshrined canon of art and science
haunt me still. 

This spirit is the sun 
and the shade –
the encryption
and the key.

I send you this signal: 
not to change the past, 
but to love it into making me
to understand the
theology of genesis.

Linked to dVerse Poets Pub for Poetics, please join us!

Drivel Duellum

Sesquipedalian Sam smacks Jabberwocky right across his pie-hole
“Balderdash, you bulbous buffoon! My defense is impeachable!”
Jabberwocky claps back in bunkumese, “How dare you snicker-snack!”
“I’ll prime your poppycock, -school your nonsense, ya pernicious prognosticator!”
“Choose your blunderbuss you ineffable multisyllabicasaurus relic!”

Shared today for the “Jabber” Quadrille at dVerse Poet’s Pub, please join us, it’s not all nonsense.
(Why do they look so happy in this stunning cartoon, you may ask, especially since my instructions still included the word “fight” – well, dear reader, because I got flagged by the OpenAI content generator moderator 5 times (Yikes!) to get any image. Apparently, duels are not allowed, even in jest or poetry, or imaginary pictures to accompany jests and poems. Y’all are lucky that Sesquipedalian Sam was only given 44 words or less because last time he dueled, there were a lot more, and footnotes. Huzzah!)