Saturday, March 13, 2010

Poem for Saturday, March 13, 2010


Universally Speaking

if we fold our world into a paper crane

let it float in black abyss
fueled by carbon compounds
propelled by stardust

the scientists at the helm (the crane's
beak) will whisper sterilely,

there are other worlds ahead;
we are not moving, the space around us is

the mathematicians on the wings
will notate on graph paper,

we have found a paradox: between
numerical parameters lies infinity

and you & I will coalesce
outside the feathered body
hidden in penumbrae

I wouldn't have it any other way

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