2018-04-15

NaPoWriMo - 2018 - Day thirteen - Luminiferous




Luminiferous

The assumption of a spatial plenum of luminiferous aether, rather than a spatial vacuum, provided the theoretical medium that was required by wave theories of light.



Where a thing goes through another thing
it's easier all told should the second thing be missing,
presumed imaginary.  But... when it is a wave
that needs to pass, it's altogether less discretionary

we feel the need for something there to do the waving, invisible
and undetectable, as may be.  Some sort of space-based paving
across which light might strollor so the Victorians had it.
Not being the sorts to admit that things might come of nothing,

relativity of moral or physical sort, or any vacillation
of the gap.  When they looked into the void
they generally found nothing staring back.  It must
have been so comforting, to be so sure of everything

to know no wave/particle duality and never see
a single photon to have passed through both the slits.
These days, we tear their whole world picture into bits
and grind it underneath our heel.  We known that now

there's no such thing as a revealed truth.  We wrestle verities
from the Universe; admit we aren't the centre
of creation; feel strange elation in the lack
of an agenda.  It isn't you, and it definitely is not me

but we stare into the void of the future and we hope
that somewhere far downstream something sufficiently advanced
iterates an algorithm, converges on Bethlehem.




2018-04-13

NaPoWriMo - 2018 - Day eleven - She reads


She reads



She reads her poems in not her poetry voice:
she makes a point of that. She does not wear
her special blouse and although it is quite warm,
she's kept her jacket on. I do not listen
at least not with poetic ears, it seems to me
there's more to hear in the quiet echo
of her words from off the rear wall of the room
and the chaotic, microscopic interference
of waves that pass in both directions. I know her,
know she is her harshest critic and here she is
muttering imprecations from somewhere at the back
of the auditorium. I'm sure nobody else has noticed,
but I'm alive to subtleties in the situation,
her: unappreciative of poetry read to herself;
me: hearing myself attending every word.




2018-04-10

NaPoWriMo - 2018 - Day ten - No-one understands, even as it is explained.




No-one understands, even as it is explained.


When you say
things aren't as they appear,
he thinks he understands, nods 
as if the pair of you are wise.

We none of us wise. I am not wise,
even with much more clue 
than him.

Later you hear him telling Betty
that things are not as they appear.
He has her pinned

in one corner of the kitchen,
one arm against the wall and leaning in.
She is nodding

to pass the time until
she can escape back to her desk
and all the time you're telling this to me:

things aren't as they appear, you say,
I only wish I could get to my desk
and talk to the machines.



From Marie Lightman's prompt if somewhat perpendicularly.