Wary Procession

It was the day the bees aligned
and flew in a single file
like a honey-yellow tightrope.

I walked above them without a net below
and only a plain black umbrella
to assist my balance.

All this provided an imperfect demonstration
of Einstein’s train explanation
of his relativity theory.

And it gets me across the arroyo
which rages with water
from heavy mountain rains.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

Alternating Phases Correspondent

Delphi’s dream
vibrates the room
off pattern forty-two point seven
Hertz oscillation
out of phase to the norm
like some Star Trek episode.
Danger! Do not wear
a red uniform.
Danger! This is not
a Freudian tunnel
that leads to some
long awaited wet dream.
It turns out to be
a microtubule
quantum state
fluctuating between
an incoherent superposition
and something
a bit more classical
like Timmy crying
Lassie come home!
But the dog
is not sequential
or discrete
and chews up
the most infinitesimal measure
of the Planck scale
so that there is no more
separation between
the first detection
of strong-gravity and
the repetitious swinging
of strings
into the deception
of spheres—
which might as well be
the C-Y-M-K dots
on a poster of Einstein
sticking out his tongue.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

Before Backspacing

I ride the bus.
The number ten bus.
It does not have a bicycle rack.
I wish the bus was metaphorical.
It is as real as my wish for a car.
My cashless wish.
I cannot afford a new car.
I cannot afford a reasonable used car.
I can afford a junker.
It does not matter though.
I cannot afford auto insurance.
So I ride the bus.
Or I ride my bicycle.
Remember, the bus does not have a bicycle rack.
So I cannot combine the two sequentially.
I do combine walking and a bus ride sequentially.
I would like to walk while on the bus.
It would effectively demonstrate Einstein’s relativity theory.
The people I share the bus with do not care about Einstein.
Well, not to the best of my knowledge.
The worst of my knowledge calls everyone an ignorant boob.
And it named all the girls Veronica.
I am sure none of the girls are named Veronica.
Two women on the bus look like university students.
They talk biology and organic chemistry.
They might appreciate Einstein and my demonstration.
And Darwin on the origin of species.
But not Walt Whitman with his Leaves of Grass.
Wait. That was the worst of my knowledge speaking.
It is stupid. It is so stupid it spelled stupid stupide before backspacing.
Really. An evolved person should not call people names.
I guess I am not evolved.
I should read Darwin for Beginners.
I ride the bus, so there is time on the way home.
And the way to work.
Today is one of my two weekly days off.
I am on the way to the zoo.
I will seek Darwin lessons there.
I am sure Einstein demonstrations are there, too.
I bring Whitman along in my head
to recite to the animals.


copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney

postscript

I have never recited poems to the animals at the zoo. I have read poems from poetry books to the trees of woods I like attending. Generally those woods are away enough from populations that it was rare someone heard me reading poems to the trees.

In the 1990s I participated in guerilla poetry readings while I lived in Milwaukee. Usually the city government buildings and the downtown business center. Recite and dash.