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


I stopped meeting my friends for happy hour.
I stopped reading the news.

I ceased going to my cafe to write.
I ceased greeting people’s dogs on hiking trails.

I put an end to attending poetry readings.
I put an end to getting my palm read.

Placing book reviews on Amazon came to an end.
Knowing the future came to an end.

I swept the kitchen floor seven times today.
I washed every doorknob nine times.

I sterilized everything except for a batch of cookies.
I washed the empty beer bottles twice.

All my books are now my friends.
All my friends are yesterday’s pages in my diary.

I watched every Star Trek episode over again.
I studied an ant crawling up the shower curtain.

Hunger is disoriented and arrives at odd intervals.
Tragedy waits in the zeal of Sunday churchgoers.

My phone is painful to hold when it rings.
Uncontrollable shivers rattle my bones from time to time.

I attempt to learn the subtle meanings
of my dog’s various woofs.

copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney