Posted on April 12, 2008 by vagant
While I’m sitting in my study room the television is on in the living room. It’s a science program from Danish television talking about the particle accelerator i CERN. I get curious and go in to watch a couple of minutes. I really don’t know anything about this and I start speculating in my own strange way.
What is really going on in the particle accelerator in CERN?
It looks like hieroglyphs, strange metaphors and pictograms made by Picasso.
Alphabetic combinations is dripping from gloomy dendrite trees in my brain.
Electrical signals reach the neurons from the crushed knee.
Like the alphabet this simplicity is got so many combinations.
A Chinese neurologist said a couple of years ago
that Shostakovich got a spile from a granate in his brain
during the second world war.
After this he heard music
every time he turned his head sideways.
His mind was full of melodies,
new ones every time.
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Posted on April 11, 2008 by vagant
One summer I was listening to the radio while reading old poems and suddenly the time when I started talking as a toddler, the beginning of langauges in human history and the poem connected in some strange way
The summer wind blows through my window
while I’m reading old notebooks.
The yellow curtains moving
creating light and shadows on the floor,
on the page with an old poem
about loosing a balloon in the wind.
Early memories;
remembering the dust in the light
from the kitchen window.
My first words were pure sounds
like dustglittersongs.
The radio is on
and a professor says that
languages started in the area
around Lake Victoria.
While I read the poem
I can see waves on the lake.
They are disappearing
like chalk on a professor’s blackboard
when he is erasing the interpretation
of a poem of a dead poet.
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Posted on April 11, 2008 by vagant
Monday in the beginning of April the paper writes that the telescope circling around the earth discovered organic molecules 63 light years away.The atmosphere of the distant planet is blocking light from the mother star and spectral analysis of this light showed traces of metan gass, which means the presence of organic molecules.
I am a researcher with telescope eyes
just call me fessor, and through these mirrors
in the light of a distant star, poetry appears
appears from the distant atmosphere of HD 189733b.
painted in an analogue universe I see
a mother and her a child
with cosmic aging 63 light year eyes
and every thought we have must rest
within the father of a distant gaze.
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vagant
