science – novamartinpoetry.com

Poems

The Kepler Torrents

“I want to know the Kepler torrents with you.”

“The Kepler torrents?”

“The ones between Baltawn and Graesheyawn.”

“The ones in the starmap on the back of your
neck?”

“No. The ones further in … and much further out.”

“The way the lifeforms are formed?”

“Yeah, the way the lifeforms are formed.

Well hold on, yes — I guess. Kind of. Sort of.”

“Ah, so the force between objects.”

“Yes, that’s it, but I mean the unaccounted force
between objects.

I guess — the as of yet, unaccounted force
between objects.”

“Oh, so then I think you mean — love,
or the love that is greater than the chronicles of
humans.”

“Ok then, you’ve made my point — come with me
to the points between Baltawn and Graesheyawn.

Come inside of there. Come for the dead. Come
for the living.”

Poems

From Oak Grove To Field

Sometimes
I go from the oak grove
into the light.

The moonlight over the field
of tallgrass.

As a prayer.
To be filled.
Felt, fallen, bathed, and cast.
All in one moment.

Only something
non-human
could do that.

I’m not even sure
I can grasp it.
I just do. I try to live.

Literally, the human being.

While there is so much
simultaneously
happening alongside being,
too dimensional for beingness.

Like I said; a prayer.

Some kind of ionization.
Something electromagnetic.

Into minimal light.
Oak tree stark winter neuronal limbs
reaching.
Into a vast, vast ocean:
the calculus of consciousness
Physicists have yet to decipher.
Though my heart drives me to pray,
to give thanks to the eternal moment.

The thing recognizing itself.

Poems

The Computers

I feel the same with these computers
still around me.
Brooklyn, 2004.
Chicago, 2018.
They’re still here.
Not the same computers.
But their forms and
with similar feelings,
similar smells.
Electrons activated on air.
Petroleum exhaust from the street outside.
Somewhere in the labs,
wormholes ripped open
in our cosmic neighborhood.
But, the computers are still here
in their form and feelings.
I feel them, see them, know them, smell them.
They will be something different
at some point,
but for now they’re still here within
the concrete, steel, and glass buildings
of the city
and of the agencies,
where the computers train
and dream to be deoxyribonucleic acid.
I feel it.
I have seen it.

Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin

Poems

Night Run Syntax

I went to the night
and I wanted to run
further and further
into the star fields above.
Into the past.
Past my own people
and their adoration of
gender and tyrants,
drunk on power,
desperate without it.

For
the people here are slaves
to desperation.

Insignificant in space,
yet precious in form.

How
can we live content
as dust?

How
can we live
and then take
our form again,
in some manner,
some way?

Further and further
into the star fields above,

I lust.
I pray.
I send signals their way.

Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin

Poems

Testing The Booky

Dogs bark
at the sea-break,
buildings getting
taller and taller.

I guess we’re testin’ the booky,
testin’ the booky.

A philosophy teacher
once told me,
“Go out there,
and test that god-damned booky.”

– Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin

Poems

Bells of Tolrileum

The Bells of Tolrileum
I heard during torture,
the marketization, rule systems,
and subjugation
of
people.
The unfreedoms.
The magik. Symbology.

I remember the lost civilizations

the Way of the Queens

the days of learning and courage

introspection with molecules.

I heard the Bells of Tolrileum.

Now
others are hearing.

Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin

Lovers Of The Century, Poems

Enzyme Face With Gravy

You, the bite of grape after wine,
I cried on your breasts.
My tears fled to the desert,
waves of sand, waves of water.
I made oceans fall apart
when the world was just beginning.
Took bites of cheese in front of you,
swallowed.
The cliffs of mountain sides
were falling down every 24-hour cycle.
Infantile planets do that.
You must pick them up,
raise them to their solar star
so that they will photosynthesize.
I was thriving in your tenderloin muscles,

a co-enzyme I think I am.

– Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin
from:

Lovers Of The Century (poetry book)