Monday, September 12, 2011

Dark Matter


Dark Matter

Love so long my intimate,
my reasonable master
now buffets me with alien force.
Each day a new division
slits my mind, anisotropic splits,
tangled strands, green kindling I leave
to be idly picked apart by your hands,
your hands that dread all work
and all possessing.

Yet I let gravity pull me to
the lightless prison at your heart,
cosmic dust of sin and spin,
a wobbling globe starry with relief 
in your human smile upon me,
your hair the wind lifts, your eager dismay
to absorb me quick as now becomes past,
futureless, floating on the knife-edge
of cold molecular storm

born to be parted in a moment
of repulsive expansion and galaxy shift,
giving up our brief blue light
as darkness births its worlds.

March 1991
revised September, 2011



This copyrighted image was originally used to illustrate the poem and is worth a view:
Dark Matter in a Lamda CMD Universe
simulation by Dave Bock, National Center for Computing Simulations
U.of Illinois Champagne-Urbana

11 comments:

  1. Wonderful line:cosmic dust of sin and spin!

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  2. you go back and forth in your words with my feelings...love, yes the heart a prison, the gentle wind on hair yet knife edge storm...ever expanding distance...i leave feeling a tad sad...

    good to see you hedge...

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  3. What a perfect trope, demon lover as dark matter -- the more we "know" about this unknowable near-entirety of the universe (95 percent of all that is), the more we see how love, like life on any planet, is the infinitesimal mote in the Eye of Nothingness. That there are human carriers of this energy -- (or, scarier still, that all of us are comprise of a chunk of it) does give the jazzman some might after midnight "sin and spin." The profound accident of them all, in the grand halls of stranding, strung-out string universes, is that we love, loved at all ... Great bit of finding the big picture in a bed from history. Makes me wonder at what hilarious refutations of cosmic law we are. - B

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  4. @the borg: thanks for stopping by and assimilating.

    @brian: thanks--this is actually quite a cheerful piece for that time in my life--just sayin' ;_)

    @B: Thanks for reading. I spun the physics into it today when I rewrote. I had a planet simile stuck in the middle, so it seemed to fit. It's a trip going back to these older poems--this one twenty years ago--and getting into that head again--and I concur with your observations--the accident of meeting to love seems almost as amazing and rare considering the composition of each individual fragment hurtling through the darkness, as the accident of intelligent life.

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  5. It sound like love. It sounds like loss. And it sounds inevitable. Why do certain ones capture our hearts the way they do, whether it's smart or not, whether anyone else understands or not, whether it's "right" or not? Who knows...but I do know that it's impossible to say no when it happens. And...would we really want to?

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  6. the last couple lines were so rich and evocative. this was seasoned with cosmic dust. i think scientists are now saying that dark matter is what holds the universe together.

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  7. Love is often unreasonable and terribly inconvenient, ravaging and tangling, exerting monumental forces that suck us in. The first time I fell in love against my will still haunts, the second was an emotional emetic with a severely damaged person, the third was actually voluntary, the forth absorptive and futureless, and the fifth futile - maybe I've learned my lesson. Like the worlds birthed in darkness I have felt at the idle hands of lazy, emotionally unavailable, and dangerous lovers incapable of intimacy. Your poem gives me lots to ruminate over here and, as always, I love your work.

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  8. @Ed Glad you stopped by, thanks for reading.

    @Anna: Thanks for the kind words--and glad you can relate, while at the same time, not sure if I shouldn't offer my sympathies instead. Yes, love is an empanada I have yet to get the complete recipe for--but one tries to cook something up anyway. At least I don't try to stuff it exclusively with my own more tender parts and throw it in the fry daddy anymore. ;-)

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  9. No dark matter this, this is love. So good!

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  10. wow! this was cheerful back then, Joy? phenomenal write with the swings from the love we want to the painful love we will sometimes accept.
    d ♥

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'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg