perception, a little ditty

there lies something within the gap between                                                 my senses and my memories

strange things exist where only microprocessors                                        function - independently,

autonomously needing no report,         from the mothership,           from the underlings

somewhere withing that space belies                                                      single-celled freedom from everything

but harrowing struggles of life occur from body to organ                                   to nerve cell discourse

it seethes and fights and bleeds and dies of it's own consent                           and of it's own consorts

grating a space into my sublime                                                                 mind-body connection

rejecting the order of the insurmountably huge                                                homo-sapien conjecture

so i have to wonder day to day                                                                    just what my person is thinking

it seems unrelated to all my hopes,                                                                dreams, and lifelong tinkerings

could truly a single cell and its DNA propose the meaning of I?                             i do not know, but think i'll find out

15 minutes after i die

Very cool! you're close to something here: I didn't at first notice the words on the right side of the screen. If you tweaked this a bit, you could make it work with or without those words, almost a conversation of two voices in your head. Or two different meanings depending on the choice of the reader to include thos words or not.

This is could be a new format, a 'broken sonnet' or 'decoupled couplet' or something.

Fascinating. Can I borrow the format to try one of my own? (I have voices in my head all the time with seperate desires yet working together...maybe THEY can write this for me :)

sure thing!  i wrote it slightly differently, but the program mixed it up...ultimately i enjoyed how the website broke up the rhyme scheme.  have at it!

Right-on! I am just mesmerized by it.

And that first line! BAM! you shove a gap in there right after alluding to one. Way to reinforce!

And the ebb-and-flo of the synthetic and organic imagery and connotations, man that sets a great dynamic tension - a dance even! Back and forth with the images and the format... no wonder its hypnotic!

I also dabbled with this psuedo-dialog format, including changing the font type & italics on the right... I felt it  gave the feel of a disjointed parenthetical, if that makes any sense. (I'll see if I can dig that dinosaur up and see if I even finished it).

Well enough sycophanting....

Say, you might dig a West-coast poet-scientist I stumbled on about a year ago (although he wrote way before): Greg Keith.

Here's a stanza from his prose-poem "The discovery of philoric"

Now we see two matters and one energy, eternal delight
equal mass times lightspeed squared. No things but in
process of becoming. Even a virus, thinglike as it seems,
looks mighty procedural compared to miasma -- a true spell,
one long nucleotidal word hexing our cells to repeat it.

As you can feel, he blends the worlds like you. Here's an excerpt from the Intro to his book "Life Near 310 Kelvin":

In some poems, Greg's meditations incorporate astronomy ("The Age of Light"), in others biology and physics ("Wear and Tear," "You," "Selvedges," "I, Declared"), in yet others history and politics ("Off the Wall in Washington, D.C.," "Free Speech"). I don't want to leave the impression, however, that Greg's main poetic strength is his vocabulary. On the contrary: As I said before, all his poems are personal and immediate; his is a most human voice speaking to the reader's heart as well as head...

Check him out. Or don't. Its all good.

As an amateur astronomer myself, I would love to see how he blends the feelings of wonder and discovery with hard science and language.

Cap: The links are embedded in the titles above. Mouse over to find links and... >CLICK<

my favorite serendipitous read (that i did not fully realize as i composed it)  is to read only the right column straight down.  it magically spells out the theme, like it could be a william carlos williams piece or even haiku-like (it adds up to exactly 34 syllables if you pronounce sapien in two syllables).  but seriously, i just figured all that out now.  it was completely unintentional and the haiku thing is a total stretch.  but i do this because it's fun and cathartic, like music

completely bawled over by the ditty's content and form and your style of writing, Catherine-J

I read this over and over yesterday. Thought i'd come back today after i'd had time to comprehend the majesty. It still overwhelms me, I've not read anything quite like it. Fantastic

I really love the striking landing of the tight semantic set. It's abstract, clinical almost, yet very present - incredibly impactful.

It is science fiction poetry at it's best, and I'm nothing but impressed with this one.

It ought to be submitted relentlessly, as any editor I imagine whose optic nerves it might cross, whose neural pathways might consider; I cannot imagine any honest poetic decision maker turning down this piece, should the publication be appropriately aimed.

In any case, this one is exacting and magnificent, my praise cannot be more appropriately placed.

Catherine, I love your poem. :)

Electric Green

the blankness of the overload                                   it sizzles intently

driven directly into the ending                          connecting the alarm

panicking towards spasms                           towards unconsciousness

an incapacitating aura haloed resurrect                under the lids of now

creating a certain shade of green                 red-blue visible-spectral

dancing sheets shimmering withholding                    echoes of memories

walking into darkness                           confrontationally vivid activations

of infinite depth                      flashing in colors between white and black

the excesses of the rainbow

dot dot dot

it's the early morning oranges that seem a little pink.  An ochre kinda pumpkin crowning bluish-gray sort of wink. 

an immediate source of windblown tumblewed stationary phallangecal waverings skyward, stretching into dawns newly revealed undercarriage.  fading into reflections of seas, eradicating constellations until the next spin.

Wonderbluss careening towards oblivion, tanking,  floating markers lighthoused subsequent harbingers floating to shreds, wretched, writhing

                                                       seething without

the inclinations, sublimations, tribulations devout                                            no one elses affectations, ostentations, deviations throughout

your other machinations.... articulations....  infatuations.  without a doubt.

      (...)

Or here, Catherine-J, that works too...  

lol, thanks writch,  i'd like to think that once i really stock both of my posts it'll be clear the reasons for the division.