‘Only poets and schizophrenics communicate in a language that defies rational analysis . . .’ Robert Anton Wilson
Here Hypatia approaches the door
the door is an irrelevant detail
unknowable in its true nature
she glimpses her blind spot
(a function usually serviced by love)
or some part of it, partially obscured
to drive home the meaning of paradox
mensurate the distance traversed between
the embodied and ideal
a parsing machine cuts the semantic noise
from intellection’s graceful veil,
stitching the poetic to quantum psychology
is the reality a sinister game or mystic bliss?
opaque liquidity implies motion without clarity
she moves in mysterious ways
pop culture clashes with nuclear glory
amidst the alleluias, seraphic cries
arriving fiery in the ear
perception tilts while memory is reinvented
neurochemicals bind to receptors along new pathways
meaningless speech collides with calcified ‘facts’
in transactional, irrefutable phenomena
spooks that inhibit the limning shadow
recondite specters that haunt her in the night
think wrongly but never not at all
within qubits any state is possible
even that of non-fictitious disinformation
the thoughts of a lobotomized squirrel are more challenging
than the most advanced artificial intelligence
these creatures the post-modern bestiary embody
hidden truths within a cryptographic field
plucked by the talons of eagles
in a shifting, holographic sky
rewiring the flight path in her brain
her mind continues its activity
oblivious to whether it is an immortal soul
traveling through lifetimes or a conduit
of collective unconsciousness
illusions creating a force field
a surrounding state of flow,
a myth her thoughts dreamt,
meta-programming in a biometric system
Chromapoetica 
“illusions creating a force field” what a line! Awesome work here. I highly dig it.
Thanks Jesse, I finally took a day off and poetry poured out.
It looks like in being in a age where we can create a “reality”, it causes one to wonder about our own reality. I keep thinking the Matrix when I read this. It’s not hard to feel like a program in this day and age where there’s so much input and distraction. I’m lost maybe, caught in google-force whirlwinds of wiki-ed facts and top-ten must-know lists, maybe they create what I think I know.
I’m glad to read one from you after what seems like a long time.
I always enjoy your thought provoking and interesting comments. Yes, the input and distraction seems to be a constant difficulty to be worked against. The whirlwinds are very familiar to me :).
a bright shadow, inside. the curious anatomy of thinking. it is strange to describe our logic and illogic scientifically, but it must be engineered that way. it becomes chaotic when we mix thinking with the mess of the surrounding world. reactions, dreams. squirrels seem to think very fast and like hazelnuts better than peanuts. hypatia would have been an interesting person to talk with.
It is a curious anatomy and our perception is so often flawed. I see what you mean about creating chaos, there are also so many policies that aren’t thought through and contribute to the mess. I sort of started with thinking from a modern day Hypatia and mixed in some philosophical quandaries that have been at the forefront for me lately.
‘perception tilts while memory is reinvented’ and ‘spooks that inhibit the limning shadow / recondite specters that haunt her in the night’ are beautifully crafted lines, as are all the others, yet for me, these stand out.
Lovely to see a poem from you, Anna. Is your hand completely better now?
Thanks Polly, it still hurts if I use it a lot so I’ve been avoiding heavy use tasks like typing. My voice recognition software won’t run on my new laptop so I hope that in a few weeks it will hurt less and I’ll be able to spend more time interacting online :).
Poor you … it’s a lengthy process getting hands better. Here’s hoping when the sunshine comes you’ll be fit and well and back to your prolific writing self xx
Thank you Polly, how very kind!
look who it is!!!! smiles…great to see you anna….i really like that knwoledge of the squirrel beating artificial intelliegence…i will bet on life over machine any day int he thought department…some deep thoughts here yourself…for me particularly in those last couple stanzas….
Thanks Brian :). Your kindness brightened my day! I would bet on life too; in all its messy glory.
the entire poem stimulates my brain. your second to last stanza beginning with “her mind continues…” rings most truly familiar to my ears.
Excellent to hear; I hope you have been very well.
I’m blown away by this. I want more time to study it. I disagree with Robert Anton Wilson’s comment, though: my brother and I used to.
Thank you David, more of the context of Wilson’s quote may be helpful as he’s describing a misunderstanding between a psychiatric nurse/assistant and a visiting doctor where a mishearing leads to both parties making assumptions about the others’ sanity and coming to the conclusion that the other must be a patient. They make what appear to be irrational statements and begin to interact in a delicate manner as to not aggravate the ‘condition’ of the other. I used it largely for the reference to poets, our permission to derange the language so to speak.