I can’t give it to you scientifically,
and that’s the only way you want it
Therefore, the enormous part of you
that’s missing
—will stay forever gone
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
‘To My Naturalist Friends’
I can’t give it to you scientifically,
and that’s the only way you want it
Therefore, the enormous part of you
that’s missing
—will stay forever gone
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
‘To My Naturalist Friends’
Quantum Superposition,
forever preying on our minds
Refusing to admit what consciousness knows,
its theory never finds
The more complex the argument,
the further afield it falls
Roaming and scattered amidst the trees,
blind to the forests call
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Planting words inside my garden,
watering them at will
Staking memories long forgotten,
feelings cold and shrill
Row by row the letters planted,
phrases start to grow
Whose cool fall day a harvest brings
—to feed the winter snows
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
What describes a Poet,
let me count the ways
To once describe a morning,
emerging through the haze
What describes a season,
its leaves from green to brown
What describes a heartbeat,
when your lover can’t be found
What describes a reason,
with excuses cast away
What describes a child’s laugh,
joyous on display
What describes a place called home,
to a soldier sent to war
And what describes that final breath
—to an old man wanting more
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Writing Prose,
because I can
And Poetry
—because I must
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Awareness can be frozen,
“A watched pot never boils”
When perception’s forced upon itself,
all change in stillness toils
“To thine own self” the Bard entreated,
that one truth we’re meant to find
As consciousness—the mind of God
calls us from inside
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Looking in not out,
the picture cleared
Problems solved,
both far and near
Motion closed,
entropic sum
Space inflated
—time unspun
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Extinction probability,
ninety nine point nine
History’s infinitive,
the graveyard of time
Cosmology winning out
in the end
The hourglass draining
—last thought to befriend
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Words come to a point
like the tip of a spear
Embedding the truth
—impaling your fear
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
The speed of a photon,
the steps of a man
The truth pointing inward
—where forever began
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)