Poetry in the cracks, in the abysmal crevices
that stitched up the hours of those days
(My father is dying)
Let me make you some tea!
6 minutes to boil the water
3 to brew the leaves
10 sips per cup
5 cups per pot
These things I could count
The crystals loosening in
the longest lake of the North
Each water molecule can have
4 hydrogen bonds by
delocalized electrons
I can hear them click together
As they tumble and sink in
to the petroleum dark water
their 104º angles hum at
liquid 4ºC density
These things I could measure
The polar sun smearing
its long caress of blue
and gold along the horizon
I know the secrets when Light
holds 590nm at the side of 474
and don't knead the dough too hard!
Saccharomyces happily swimming
in a little squeeze of syrup
3 cups of flour to
1 cup of water
These things I could weigh
But recounting, I couldn’t escape the elongated hours
The tea leaves disintegrate
The bonds paused
The light froze
The Infinitesimal Integration of my Grief
The tangent endlessly bending
To the dictatorship of O
My love, my ambiguity infinitely bowing
To the totalitarianism of death
(The nurses report solidifying on the receiver. The wooden dock plunging out into the lake, the chains heavy on the planks. The tin foil holding samples in the lab as I looked at the phone lying on the table.
Waiting, waiting for the call that would give an answer to my Integral)
 |
| Oil on canvas, GIMP |
O! (I do feel like Mr Bloom)
Ben Woods Taking Small Steps Pt.1 by nidhalskywalker
*
(A tribute to the days I know must have been between the 4th and 8th of May 2011 - And a thank-you to those faces that kept me sane, Maria, Anna, Beni and Ulrich among others)
*
*
