Category Archives: out in the world

Massive Supersymmetry

For thoughts on the writing of this poem, see below. Originally published on IMUNURI
decoding

natural as breathing

unseen sight

Higgs boson

unanswered question

(s)

a = morning

b = afternoon

c = evening

d = day

does a + b + c = d

(?)

apparent passage

of time

walks all over

everything

we think

($)

without time

the space

between

things would not

contain monies

(!)

as if those

spaces

did as we think

dark matter

anti matter

(*)

IT previously

not conceived of

not seen

electroweak field

strong interaction

(10−22)

of a second

disassembles

Standard Model*

shaking in its

spin-parity

(¡)

little

do we know

yet beautifully adapt

(we = cognizant)

as/within all forces

(<3)

c601461a96704d3aaa1f70a1c300196f

 

 

 

*the so-called Standard Model of Elementary Particles


This poem found its canvas and spark via an experimental poetry, group blog, IMUNURI,which I write on somewhat frequently. The prompt we were given for this cycle of writing was called Zephyr. I find the prompts can spark something for me, as in the case of this poem, that otherwise I may not have arrived at within a more familiar terrain.

I’ve had a lay person’s passion for quantum mechanics and quantum physics for as long as I can remember. Recently, I’ve been reading on the phenomena of entanglement or quantum entanglement in The God Effect by Brian Clegg (St Martin’s Press 2006). This phenomena is not a mind boggler for me, as it is something I experience again and again and seem to have a perception of rather naturally. Yet I am fascinated by its seeming elusiveness. Clegg describes the time when (some very famous) physicists could not conceive of matter exhibiting non-locality (or entanglement.) For some it was considered a joke or, at best, utterly outside of classic lines of thinking, thus impossible.

I’m inspired by the shape shifting aspects of certainty. What we once thought certain, no longer is from a different perspective. Can we let ourselves be open to new perspectives? It’s that ‘outside of the box’ possibility that inspired this poem. Playful, risky, celebratory ~ all characteristics of an experimental poetics. 

Photo Shoot :: dance of innocents

If I could see with the eyes
I See with ~ the wonder and gravity
Of What Is would be deeply evident yet
Needing no evidence nor questioning

And yet the power of those eyes
Is that they don’t see in the plainest
Of ways, but as the ordinarily extraordinary
Depth of field without f-stops

Nothing captured for posterity, contrasting
All sense of judgment with the luminosity
Of vibrancy such that even the Camera
Obscura lays wait, no pin prick necessary

As bubbles burst upon forming, projections
Simply do not arise, people do not gather for or against
And even places do not serve as some kind of Dominion
Nor as shoving off, point of departure

How odd that our lives seem to balance
Between a collection of events and things
As we surround ourselves with tangible markers
Of the intangible. What a task

We ask of the humble traces of earth and sky
When their very nature is just to be
No claim on anything, but abiding and giving
Nonetheless. Purpose perhaps but no need.

for James Wheeler (in asking to take photos) and Peter Kater (for Dance of the Innocents)

20131117-114003.jpg

iNotice

Incoming

I notice there are things
that
people
tend to notice

There is what I notice
almost
too subtle
to take note

Is there something we notice
possibly
other than
what seems to be

Departure

Walking
everything stays in one place
eyes toes nose
back hand

Notice(?)

How you don’t leave
anything
behind
everything comes with

When orientation is fixed
things return to
the same
the same

Again and again

How often do I agree
even in writing
gross holds
over subtle

Otherwise

Flame light of fire
Musical tonality
Aspiration
Synergy

 

 

All Wonder As This

All and many I meet myself

the prairie dogs out in the sun

the cat making its loud request

even the band members three

the silent one at work avoiding

the one who touches in asking

Each meeting and non-meeting

escalates the palpability of I-Thou

truly lightly firmly sometimes

fascination igniting conscience

tussle and pull forward backward

separateness stands to be shorn

Like the sheep giving it all over

for some other purpose than

their own, I now wearing some-

thing of the other as my cover,

this is how things get interesting

parsing apportioning we tempt

The unfortunate fate of old, worn

housings that which dances past

and through awkward dreams

unfettered and lost in designated

zones where no key or lock can

keep or much less open or close

Fancy that! How many times so

far have you walked onto That

stage, the one where most divine

counsel awaits ready to invite you

to burn As Yourself and No Other

resistance melting with that ace

As the curtain rises –an exposé

like no other upstages what once

was Now Seen Heard Spoken as

effulgence in the making unplugged

freeing the intermediaries of the toil

of battening down the misbegotten

I-Thou No Other

All Wonder As This

I-Thou As Other

All Wonder As This

I-Thou Be Loved

All Wonder As This

Crowning Glory

I step out barely
— into the sky as
the crowning glory
of all things myself
and not myself

For I find myself
within and between
and without these
wings, one of not
and one of all

Frighteningly so
at first but the lift
gathers and throws
me into the vastness
of this blue ocean

Learning to swim
in the sky of my Being
and not run or flee
but fly as I am
— crowning glory

My roots are freed
riding the currents
along with all that
once fettered me
when I looked down

Meeting these fresh
forces –alighting like
quantum treasures of
that which we Are
sharing now this Crack

Into that fabric of plane
existence shocking me
free of that pondering
wasteland –all that binds
and frets now scours forth

A Song of the unfolded
mystery of the most plain,
dry only of sorrows once
passed over and now
absorbed, dancing as Lift

Within and beneath
these transparent wings
blue as the sky clear as
diamonds polished by
the heart of hearts once
and only always free

Short and sweet ~ in response to prompts of 10 or 14 words

ten words: Ten and Ten and Ten Again

it

never

really

surprises

me

where

i

am,

like

here

 

Life (No 13 in Musical Humors) :

please click here to see/read this ten word ‘poem’

 

and fourteen words for One Love:

 

until that time
found or not
it rests in wait
there within –the pearl

• • •

A love like this
Still as fallen snow
Facets in brilliance
We are That

somɹǝsault

A ten word poem from the recent IMUNURI prompt this week. I found it came in (two takes) –each a little different.  ¡ʇı ɥʇıʍ unɟ ǝʌɐɥ noʎ ǝdoH

http://imunuri.blogspot.com/2013/01/somsault.html

land cloud earth air water and photography

slope ridge line light

Photography –a medium I first explored over three decades ago and now find myself coming back to again, is compelling. It is the appearance or illusion of what was seen –not seen by the naked eye but by the camera, as Garry Winogrand so aptly noted as he discussed photography while being filmed himself for a documentary on photography.

We can look at photography in another way, not the way the camera ‘looks’ at the world in that split second aperture opening, but the way the human being and the human eye explores and glances, focusing or not focusing at something. Each photograph I take asks, if it can be said that way, to be looked at differently. In the photo above, for the body/brain there is a gestalt here. There are worlds within worlds in this image in the way I experience it. There is abstract beauty, there is light, dance, majesty, tenderness, softness, a deep relax. I love what seems to me the visitors, the trees high up on the ridge drawing my attention and intersecting the ridge line, riding the slope of this arid mountainside.

I love the scale shift in detail from the foreground to the very distant space of the ridge on into the sky. The feel of the day that drew me out into its changeability is touched here in this photograph, for me. Something breathes more easily within me in the presence of this light and shadow illusion of a land and cloud scape. So where might we say this landscape exists?

As invisible

as an updraft, the eye soars

as the osprey’s flight

The Land of Clouds

The other ‘land’

A new land was visible, as well as undeniably felt today. This land was a land of clouds, in perfect synergy with the geological, earthen land masses that appear so permanent and reliable. The cloud cover was ever changing today, reliably so. The play of light and shadow cast exponentially greater than the day or two before when I took in the simple play of afternoon light and shadow on the slopes of the Adams Gulch trail north of Ketchum (where I’ve been communing with animals for the last three weeks.)

It was as if I had arrived in a wholly new place. The clouds joining with, marrying, in a deep interplay with the curves and slopes of the mountains and hills and creek valleys everywhere around me creating a new order of scape. I was drawn to capture the shapes and the light and the feel of these ineffable contours again and again and again. Everywhere I turned, yet another land to move with, to be wafted by, lifted up while my feet remained with the ground below.

Dwelling place in the clouds

Where is it we dwell, truly? There is only one small portion of ground that our physical form rests down, touches down, meets contact with and makes real that place. All other aspects of space are perceived, even if they can be mapped, recorded, seemed to be held real ~ all these are simply a pointing to. Such is the magic of the cloud land or cloudscape, no maps are made of these.

Hiroshige Homage

In that way, clouds are akin to so many other changing thus not permanent things, not expected to remain the same. What is it about cloud nature that our brains so resonate with their phenomena? Are we not so much closer to cloud than steel or glass or even wood? We are so changeable by so, so many aspects and factors of life that shape us, constrict us, show us off, dissolve us, heighten and sometimes perturb us.

Permanently Changeable: Sky Dance

I will meet you here

We are at home in the sky

There no ladder climbs

Upon Finding East Coker*

Here and now  is my beginning, not mattering
where I am or where I come from, my voice
of ash and cornstalk and leaf finds its ally.
With stones, this folly and forewarned failure
of words no longer tending that which once
tasted the palette of timelessness and seeing,
I return with those twenty years, also, that feel
wasted and yet not, steeping within which may,
just may resolve the quickened art of questions.
I will have this kind of conversation, however alone
it leaves me, But a lifetime burning in every moment
And not the lifetime of this woman only 
But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.
It is these stones that rise to meet me here, good company
yet uncompromising, as must be in folly, casting shadow
of experience haste and heavy and also humble.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
My day, this time, this world where I traverse and scold
as a private affair, the interior tides occasionally spilling
sometimes tarnishing, but also giving possibility to the polisher.
When should I, if ‘should I’ is the way to say it, when is it to be
plain, as uncontrived as animals coming to greet and pose
as themselves, not how we might wish them to present
only to fulfill matters that are ours, when is it to be plain?
Something is held back, reserved, calculated to create
a hidden reserve with interest, interest in and of what?
Let the dark come upon you, thus the beginning of the unraveling
and there are those who are with me here, in that here and there
that does not matter gives rise to exploration, communion,
even desolation The sharp compassion of the healer’s art.
Thank you voice of voice recognized
Whether posing or not of one time and place
I find the ground of heart of heart synchronized
Mess of imprecision of feeling within this space
Fierce, monstrous, Love is most nearly itself, grace.
I’ve found something here of myself and of you
And found and lost again and again
It is that tarnish I now polish but seeing the hue
before the scour
For the pattern is new in every moment
And every moment is a new and shocking
Valuation of all we have been.
Having considered apology, I carry on
in my work of this day of words and all that I know little of.
 

note ~ In italicized bold are excerpts from:

East Coker by TS Eliot

Please consider reading East Coker in its entirety, if you are at all inspired!

Thank you Daniel Ari, TS Eliot, Kim Rosen, Jason Wheeler, Marna Hauk