January 14th, 2012
|11:46 pm - Poem - Sarcophagus|
box within box
the box of lacquer
the box of cedar
the box of onyx
the box of concrete
the box of electricity
each painted with a face
each face one inch behind the last
inside the final box
the final face
hot and shifting
the molten core
the neutron star
does it struggle to escape?
is it angry?
five thousand years
in the Valley of the Sphynx
and not dead yet
as flesh secretes its shell, or its cocoon
the nymph emerges
pumping her damp wings
magic is angry
because we neglected it
science is angry
because we don’t believe it
this is its half-life
we half-live it
It's got a good beat and I can dance to it. :-D No really it is a beat-driven thing yes?
I do read them out so I guess that makes you think about beat.
I've stopped reading out at the monthly poetry night at the pub though, because they don't start until late and I am getting too old for that.
|Date:||January 15th, 2012 10:19 am (UTC)|| |
Neutron star? Aren't they rather static?
That made me read up on them. Says wikipedia:
'Neutron stars have overall densities ... approximately equivalent to the mass of the entire human population compressed to the size of a sugar cube.'
And if you have ever travelled on the London Underground you will know what that feels like.
|Date:||January 15th, 2012 11:31 am (UTC)|| |
"the molten core
the neutron star"
Not very molten, though. Presumably sits in space like a turnip of death.
|Date:||January 15th, 2012 01:28 pm (UTC)|| |