Quantum Condensation

Schrödinger's Cat lives or dies
On the passion of the Observer.

Long as the bottle keeps it's seal
Ambiguity rules the day.

Add a dash of Möebius,
Make it a bottle by Klein.

Cat and Observer intertwined
Identity up for grabs.

Entanglement is a two way street.
Observe responsibly / passionately.

Cheshire

The Writing Room

There is a room to which I go when strick-
en by the muse. A quiet room with chair
and desk, my journal and a pen to write.

There is a fire and blankets for their warmth,
And windows on the ever changing world,
And solitude in which I may reflect

Upon the roiling static that occludes 

My senses as I struggle through the day, 

Oblivious to others as they are.

Alone? Not so, for in my journal comes

To life the others that I have perceived,

Though dimly, through the static of the world.

Reflection lets the tangled threads unwind.

I see and hear and feel you from afar.

I write with hope my words will make the trip

To you when you are in this room.

And so we share this place of solitude,

For now the world - our fears,  allow naught else.

Perhaps, some day when fears are set aside

This room will grow into the world.

The roiling static slowly fades away

Revealing chairs for two.

Son of with apologies to Stephen Fry

Exercise (3) in Messr. Fry's "The Ode Less Travelled."

Enjambment & Caesura (2). Write 5 blank iambic pentameter couplets, first without and then with.

(1) Something right outside your window.

The porch light reaches out into the night
The maple casts a shadow on the street

The maple swoons. It bleeds it's shadow on
The street, stabbed by the porch light in the night.

(2) Something you'd like to eat right now.

Some Mac and cheese with bread crumbs baked on top

And after coffee ice cream with mint chip.

The palate singed, burnt by the bubbling Mac
And cheese, is soothed and cooled by frozen cream.

(3) A recent dream.

Forgotten class, exams are nearly here,
Awakened in a pool of slimy sweat.

Forgotten class, A dream of school that leaves
Me full of fear and unprepared for tests.

(4) Pesky tasks overdue.

The tax return waits to be checked and filed
The trash exceeds the volume of the can.

Cannot decide. To check and file the tax
Return, or empty out the garbage can.

(5) My body.

Some belly flab and ears that do not match.
Both arches fallen and no muscle tone.

My body's faults, some belly flab and ears
That do not match, but which of them is worse?

Got it Bad (Good)

That giddy, little smile
Coming out of nowhere.

The twinkle in my eye
With no one else around.

The momentary sadness
When the voicemail takes the call.

The thrill of a +1
Or a comment on my post.

(You)

Inspired by the poem Three Steps by Lynn Paden


http://jamison.mysticmorph.net/2013/11/19/three-steps/

Time

Do you know
Who the timeout is really for?

Did you really miss the 2x4
I dropped
On your over-analytic head?

You're a 24 hour
Pest of a man.

Uninvited, spouting
Your obscure allusions.

Presuming you are welcome.

How can I miss
Such a clown?

How can I crave
Such tedium?

How
Can I be creative
Around such
Mind numbing static?

And when will you butt in again?

(return)

Central Market, Lancaster PA

Light from the edges, light from the ends
High, high space with ceiling fans
Keeping it all mixed up.

Aromas intertwined.
An inconceivable spice melange
Coffee punctuation.

Bustle, Jostle, make way please
Colors of crafts
Popping rice cakes

Light from the edges, light from the ends
High, high space with ceiling fans
Keeping it all mixed up.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner?
YES! Snacks too.
Coffee punctuation.

Strong Amish hands.
Some Amish boys too.
Chatting with a man in dreads, laughing together.

BYO Bags, if you please!
Smoothies, Juices
Veggies, meat.

Light from the edges, light from the ends
High, high space with ceiling fans
Keeping it all mixed up.

Coffee punctuation.

Milady's Jester

I am Milady's jester
And the author of my chains.

Her laughter forges links
About my heart.

Her loving smile the padlock
Which will surely seal my fate.

And yet...I care not for the key.

Swaddling Chains

Swaddled in these loving chains
I find it hard to move.

The links weigh down my every breath
And chafe against my skin.

Where once they gleamed they now corrode
And I am tarnished too.

Why won't I raise my fisted hand
And use the key within?

Cherished by this chainmail mask
I find it hard to see.

The links occlude my senses
and I can't tell where I've been

Where once they offered safety
they proscribe reality.

I'd like to raise my fisted  hand
and use the key within.

Chastened by this cleansing blade
I find release in pain.

The scars adorn my living flesh
as payment for my sin.

But soon the turmoil does return
and I must cut again.

I'll never raise my fisted hand
and use the key within.

Veterans Day - 11 November 2013

To all those serving and all who have served, thank you.

For all those who have paid the price of life, limb and sanity, a prayer.

May we be worthy of your sacrifice.

Reflections

Ocean stillness
Ocean rage.

Human passion
Written page.

Mercurial surface of the sea
Reflects the mind of humanity

The poets capture in their verse
What painter's pigments oft disperse.

Nature's patterns resonate
Human chaos reigns.

Inspired by the poem Ocean Bliss by Lynn Geist

http://goo.gl/lM8VBU

Time is an illusion

What is has always been
And will be forevermore

The spark is recognition
That our paths have crossed before

The knowing glance transcends
The miles and minutes in between

The illusion is the sense
That until now we've been unseen

Comfort calm and warmth comes
With the filters stripped away

A pause at the oasis
'Til we begin another day

Oh that this real communion
Stretched into all of time...

But it does.