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.
Filed under: Poems, poet, poetry | Tagged: Poems, poet, poetry
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