the geometry of insatiable wholes

the allowable burn has its own topology, the forbidden its own – ash then becomes
trajectory manufactured as solace, the green greet of a nonindulgent poesy – what

burns now, the tangent or its numbered whole? an open space is permission to suffer
or perhaps the inkling of withheld balm – what need kills my whet & stuns my why

ordinarily, pejoratively, oblivious to the whole ? three tangents dance perpendicular –
if I operate minimally, do I enforce closure? do the rapids teach wind a nonrepentant

quietitude? does the whole unwind when its parts scream out for recompense? and does
the physics of atomic unwholes descend as humans do, part license, part vicissitude?

Connected Space

Where is the astute set of
Connected points that greet

Your short wisdom, your less
Than, or more or less than?

What kiln would store the
Burn, the stick, the rank

Of the hole that bumps you
Out of dimension to meet?

With a blunt instrument

With a blunt instrument, can you slice
Through empirical classes and wish
Away the sluice of rhyme that locks
In place after a limp modus ponens
Remembers Socrates, remembers man?

Take this useless blade and allow it
To rust its slick away with each bleed
Of night, shuck of day, drawl of om,
Cool of the viper’s shady venom drawing
Luckless ciphers and callous rules of thumb.

platonic

An anti-spoke cartwheel rebounds
Centripetally vacating spoofs of
Dustworms wishing, waltzing - An

Arthritic verse-form matches rap
Of pain in three, four syllables
That are evocative, ebullient- A

Strange remembrance bothers lost
Trapezoids seeking form in three
four platonic wholes, wormthings

Wittgensteinisms

“1 The world is everything that is the case.” (1)
In case you were wondering it was otherwise. In
Any case, it follows that the contrary is
Contrariwise to the wisdom of the unwise:
Ipso factum dictum potus collapsimus.

“1.1 The world is the totality of facts, not of things.” (2)
And that is a god-honest truism, with the
Mathematical oath of truth tucked under
The collar of airtight proof and water
Borne disease: such are things and facts.

“1.11 The world is determined by the facts, and by these being all the facts.” (3)
Not a single factotum logicitis is to
Be left out, for that would be blasphemus
Homologus, an isomophic isotope of hydrogen,
Not unlike air, as opposed to water. Yes.

“1.12 For the totality of facts determines both what is the case, and also all that is not the case.”(4)
Here you go, case closed. The ipsonessess
And factotum alumni sit in closed spaces
Where atoms of flair carry out conversations
In vacuum. There is much disagreement & air.

1-4: The first four statements from Ludwig Wittgenstein‘s Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus

versificus extremum

I.
To say
q -> p (if q then p)

is the same as saying

~p -> ~q (if not p then not q)

The cuteness of p is livid
with the acute lull, the
insipid mistiming of q.

II.

The silence of a ratted
    bow beats long best
    sung after     a
    conniption     a
    derivation     best
left waiting - nightted

Prime song

If you allow the diction of primes and moduli
To seep in, if you permit the proper allocation

Of happenstances to permute themselves
Into a blissful cohort of isomorphic wholes,

It dawns on you, allowing dawn to be a
Non-representative member of the set of

Holes warped into spacetime by the brute
Ness of a lived unwholesomeness, it dawns

On you that the primed possibilities of livid
Abundance are due to be outnumbered in

Theory, and soon in fact, so take recompense
At laudable affinities, half-lives and truth tables.

If you lisp the prime numbers till they
Sound just right, and not hesitate to

Mispronounce them oddly/evenly, they will
Slice right through your prism of angular

Hesitations and tabular premonitions such
That so and so theorem promulgated from

Above just has to be such and such, but
That is not how it goes, does it? That is

Simply the improbable trying to argue its
Hyperbole lemma into its own bit of real

Estate. Grab the primes, let loose their
Pronunciation, and they will burst into song.

Poincaré’s recurrence

The Poincaré recurrence theorem states that certain systems will, after a sufficiently long but finite time, return to a state very close to the initial state.

That return is a given is goose-bumpingly reassuring, but
The initiality, is it just the primordial sense of togetherness
Or something less? If so, what to make of the guarantor who
Does with her math what the fairytale-teller does with his
Amoral ends grafted onto mystic beginnings and shadowy
Roomfuls blighting necessity upon daft necessity in a blink?

Axioms of rhythm

The axioms are hardcore human intangibles
Invariant after transformation, insoluble, integral

To the business of playing ruthless games of
Chance and rhythm, cyclical only because the

Necessary transmutation to gold has been disproved
Again&again, otherwise plain and tangential to

The essential play of soft tugs on an unseen harp
Fleeting the grasp of rigor, fleeing the mask of fate.

Statistics and Truth

There is the statistical trend, a roundup of scatterplots
Summarized for the logarithmic-ally minded while the
Rest spout the interpretation of the gist of the summary.

There is then the statistical truth, the underlying curve
Eyeing the trend, nudging the dots to acquiesce to
a less than feasible, not necessarily pragmatic, path.

And then there is the form which sits in the center and
Above it, encircling it, keeping quiet, while roaring with
A certainty that is the hallmark of a trepidatious maya.