Graph Paper - 12/01/13

I've heard tale
of lives
that fit inside
of neat blue lines
on graph paper,
flowing like poems
that actually rhyme,
and, from time to time,
I tried to stay confined.
But I don't grow like
differentiable functions;
I grow like vines.
I grow intertwined
with other
not so tidy lives
that hopefully
aren't too eager
to leave mine. 

Feynman Diagram - 11/13/13

Color me potential.
Highlight paths
that sprawl away
from the interaction
of the present.
Shade each outcome;
cool colors for low days
and warm colors for low days
where I still have the momentum
to smile
and colorless confinement
for nights
when I fall on your floor,
close my eyes,
and interject parables
and physics equations
into your day-to-day life.

Sure,

there's some finite possibility,
but here's how I see it.

Eigenvalue Equation 10/24/13

Your soul must contain
the Identity operator
because you're an
Eigenfunction
of every heart that's
ever operated on you:
you take something
but Remain unchanged.
I can know you
and anything else
to Arbitrary precision.

Degradation Ceremony - 10/23/13

Wipe away the smudged make-up
that I ruined
before I ever applied it;
cast aside
clinking jewelry
crafted from discarded mementos;
strip;
peel back flushed skin;
scoop away viscera,
my liver poured out on the ground;
knot veins,
burn bones,
break heart and lungs;
penetrate cells,
shake off electron shells,
split protons down
to the jeweled quarks and gluons.

Then put me all back together
with a poem
and your favorite song
and your anecdotes about
your cousin
and your repeated
adventure stories
and your bitter rants
and your blushed cheeks
and parables about
physics equations.

Consistent Field - 10/22/13

The effective energy
from your presence
perturbs this system
beyond analytic solution,
computational approximation,
any sort of tidy answer
that I can pluck
from this situation
and apply to another.
I've made estimations
based on every single
previous confrontation,
yet the next never
coheres to my models.

Bottom Quark - 10/21/13

Bare beauty
like the fields between people
blinking out of sight
in the cross hairs
of our gaze;

what particles
transmit our
conversations
and shared glances?

with what metals
would you sculpt
the solutions to their
transcendental equations?

Adiabatic - 10/20/13

Not a brush of skin,
not a hint of sin,
get nothing out,
put nothing in,
better begin
to retreat,
keep your seat:
there hasn't
been any
transfer of heat,
not the slightest
insight
to your condition,
no disturbance
to your momentum
or position.
Suppose it was
just a rehearsal,
but it still
ended up
irreversible.