The Glasswright's Conundrum
The glasswright's conundrum of the turning stair,
Where absent light is caught and held and bent.
Each pane a history, each shard a tear
For what the sunbeam meant, and what it spent.
A geometry of silence, thin and vast,
The angles sing a different, hollow chord.
The present fractures, ghosted by a past,
Reflecting back a likeness unadored.
The eye, in transit, finds the edge of sight,
The edge is also where the world begins.
A mirrored darkness, brilliant in its night,
For every broken circle, every sin.
So spin the prism, watch the colors drown,
A thousand empty rainbows in the town.
Exegesis on a Broken Machine
The gear-teeth gnash, a choir of worn alloy,
Against the clockwork's disavowed design.
The armature, a monument to joy,
Now sings a static anthem, less divine.
A calculus of rust, the pivot stalls,
While circuits dream of flow they never knew.
The ghost in wires to itself recalls
A theorem that was provably untrue.
The hum is not for listening, but for being,
A testament to what will not depart.
The copper coil is busy with its seeing,
The severed function of a dying heart.
So let the sprockets seize, the valves unwind,
The purpose of the wreck is to unbind.
Postscript to a Non-Euclidean Memory
The parallel lines, they meet beyond the hill,
Not in an ending, but a new design.
The landscape ripples, motionless and still,
And proves the fault of every perfect line.
The theorem of the field no longer holds;
The scarecrow wears a shadow, not of his.
A different logic in the soil unfolds,
And what is truth depends on where one is.
So fold the paper, put the compass down,
And let the numbers fall outside the page.
The map is just the sickness of the town,
The ink is just the measure of its age.
The point of stillness is the curve of sound,
Where what was lost is suddenly unbound.
Axiom of the Obsidian Sphere
The carious sun, a verdigris orb, abrades
the parhelion, a chalice of cold glim.
The ether's apogee, where light degrades,
is limned by shadow, a cerulean hymn.
The chthonic cadence of the spires, awash
in gloaming, echoes from a silent tomb.
A panoply of ghosts, a lambent wash,
obumbrates the phantasmagoric loom.
Deciduous Elegy
This caducous grief, a scarious filament,
untethers from the arbor of the soul.
A flocculent decay, its slow descent
is shored by sepia, a partial whole.
The umbelliferous promise, overblown,
becomes a fulvous memory, sown and strewn.
Chorography of the Unmapped City
The gnostic cartographer, with palimpsest
and stylograph, inscribes the syrtic street.
A haptic toponym, a manifest
of psychopompic journeys, bittersweet.
The urban lithochromes, in fractured light,
reveal the petrichor of bygone wars.
A palimpsest of days, a florid night,
unfurls beneath the plangent, cynic stars.
The Somnambulist's Rhapsody
A crepuscular procession, hushed and slow,
the oneiric pilgrims pass, in somnolence.
Their peregrinations, a stertorous show,
are guided by an eerie luminescence.
Their faces, scumbled, bear a gravamen
of unremembered, chthonian regrets.
Post-mortem on a Broken Dial
The horologe, a tristich of lost time,
arrests its fulcrum, a selenian snare.
Each anachronous clang, a broken chime,
a chronogram for what was never there.
A gnomon's shadow, etched in cerement,
proscribes the sun's imperious trajectory.
Litany of the Ephemeral
A hagiology of scintillant things,
a threnody for motes and specious dust.
The nacreous moth with iridescence brings
a testament of evanescent lust.
A glaucous memory, a liminal glance,
recapitulates the insubstantial dance.
Palimpsest of Rust
The patinaed girder, a caesura in time,
bears the corrosion of a thousand dawns.
A scoriac testament, a subtle crime,
against the perpetuity of pawns.
The spandrel's filigree, a ferric shroud,
recapitulates the silence of the crowd.
The Otiose Canticle
The otiose canticle, with plangent tone,
recants the solace of a sibilant breath.
A palisade of sighs, a keening moan,
obfuscates the eschatology of death.
The vespertine cicada, in its drone,
foretells the advent of the monotone.
Encomium for a Forgotten Well
The catacomb of water, where the lethe
of memory resides, a cryptic plea.
The stalactitic sorrow, from beneath,
weeps for the aqueous, forgotten sea.
A hydroponic sorrow, to the ear,
reveals the synecdoche of every tear.
Diatribe against the Epigraph
The prolegomenon, a protreptic sigh,
presages nothing, in its own conceit.
The epideictic flourish, drawing nigh,
is just a palinode of what's discreet.
The asyndeton of truth, a raw design,
transcends the elegiac, pedantic line.
Exegesis of a Fractal Dawn
The aporia of sunrise, multiform,
repeats its pattern in a shattered pane.
Each infinitesmal shard, a tropic storm,
reflects the fractal sorrow of the rain.
The escarpment of the dawn, in russet light,
becomes a pleroma of forgotten night.
Soliloquy for a Sinecure
The sinecure of being, a plush conceit,
unspools its languor, a chimerical drone.
The vacuous plenitude, a grand deceit,
a gilded sepulcher, of flesh and bone.
A lucubration of the otiose mind,
a solipsistic whisper, left behind.
A Codicil for the Catachresis
The catachresis of the heart's design,
a syzygy of things that cannot be.
The fulgurous darkness, a preternatural sign,
a chiasmus of identity, wild and free.
The periphrasis of a silent prayer,
is just the apothegm of lost despair.
The Entelechy of Broken Glass
The entelechy of shards, a sharp desire,
to reassemble what was never whole.
The vitreous fragments, touched by solar fire,
reiterate the anguish of the soul.
A crystalline lament, in every crack,
is the apocryphal path from which we track.
The Hierophant's Recalcitrance
The hierophant, with sibylline decree,
pronounces silence in a crowded square.
His recalcitrance, a cryptic prophecy,
a mummery of gestures, stark and bare.
The thaumaturge of nothing, and of less,
a silent parergon of emptiness.
Ode to a Chronometer
The anachronistic ticking, a dry tattoo,
inscribed upon the cerebellum's wall.
A temporal lacuna, stark and new,
awaits the advent of the final fall.
A horologium of dust, a fine debris,
marks the uncounted moments of the sea.
The Parabola of Forgetfulness
The parabola of memory, a long decay,
projects its asymptote into the void.
The mnemnonic traces, lost to yesterday,
are by the somnolent oblivion buoyed.
The trajectory of loss, a falling line,
a teleological and bleak design.
A Patina of Desuetude
A desuetude of spirit, a thin patina,
accrues upon the furniture of mind.
The ossuary of habits, a vast arena,
where what is forgotten, we still find.
A friable existence, thin and sere,
the apotheosis of a latent fear.
A Syzygy of Gloom
A syzygy of somber, twilight hours,
aligns the cosmic and the earthly woe.
The hypnogogic phantoms in the bowers,
reflect the sublunary, somnolent glow.
The astral sadness, a cold, perfect match,
is the nocturnal sorrow we can't catch.
A Trope for the Unseen
The trope for absence, a rhetorical art,
defines the contours of the vacant space.
The chiasmus of the unavailing heart,
a tautology of grace, without a face.
The hypallage of feeling, a reversed sense,
presages the demise of pretense.
An Apothegm for the Void
The apodictic silence, a clear decree,
the apothegm of nothing, carved in stone.
The proleptic echo, a dark prophecy,
of what will be, when all is overthrown.
A tautological ending, a perfect sphere,
is the only truth that we will ever hear.
The Verisimilitude of Dreams
The oneiric landscape, a chimerical scene,
is fraught with verisimilitude's high cost.
The hypnopompic transition, sharp and keen,
recalls the labyrinth that we have lost.
The hallucinatory truth, a subtle bait,
is what we venerate and what we hate.
A Gnomon of the Unlit Sun
The gnomon, in the absence of the light,
predicts the shadow of a future day.
The eidetic absence, an eidolon of night,
determines every action, come what may.
The skiamachy of hope, a desperate fight,
a contest with a phantom in the light.
The Eschewed Epithalamium
The epithalamium, which was eschewed,
becomes a cryptogram of things unsaid.
The nuptial canticle, which was suborned,
is a monody for the unrequited bed.
A palinode of promise, a dry regret,
is what we find, when all our hopes are met.
A Catachresis for the Wind
The wind's catachresis, a liquid storm,
abrades the ossature of the old oak tree.
A kinetic torpor, a chaotic form,
propounds the stasis of the open sea.
The turbulent silence, a cacophony,
is the periphrasis of what will never be.
An Apodictic Conclusion
The apodictic ending, a certain close,
demands no proof, no exegesis, more.
The epideictic flourish, a late repose,
is just the peroration of the door.
The tautological silence, a perfect end,
is the only message we can comprehend.
The Hypallage of Starlight
The hypallage of light, a star-strewn thought,
illumines the sublunary, pallid face.
The cerebral lumen, perfectly wrought,
projects its anachronistic, cryptic grace.
The chiasmus of the mind, a mirrored line,
is the somnambulist's nocturnal design.
The Solipsistic Monody
The solipsistic canticle, a song for one,
is sung to silence, in a vacant room.
A hermetic sorrow, by itself begun,
escapes the confines of the mortal tomb.
The oneiric echo, a self-contained sound,
resurfaces from the subterranean ground.
The Aporia of the Shore
The aporia of the littoral, a line,
where sea and land forget their own design.
The syrtic sand, a liminal confine,
recounts the parable of the anodyne.
The indeterminate boundary, soft and vast,
contains the present, ghosted by the past.
The Verdigris of Contempt
The verdigris of feeling, a green-hued scorn,
accumulates on copper, cold and bright.
The patina of contempt, newly born,
transmutes the metal in the dying light.
The fulvous envy, a corroded gleam,
is the palimpsest of a forgotten dream.
The Selenian Lament
The selenian sorrow, a lunar tear,
is caught within the meniscus of the eye.
The nacreous gleam, a silent, pearly fear,
reflects the pallid, unavailing sky.
The crepuscular anodyne, a silver gleam,
is the hypnopompic echo of a dream.
The Epideictic Eulogy
The epideictic praise, for what is gone,
is just a palinode of what remains.
A panegyric, in the fading dawn,
a monument to unrequited pains.
The peroration of the eulogist's art,
is the asyndeton of a broken heart.
The Threnody for Rust
A threnody for ferric, ochre dust,
for scoriac vestiges and iron tears.
A testament to inexorable rust,
the epitaph for all the bygone years.
The carious decay, a slow design,
is the exegesis of the coming sign.
The Stylograph of Memory
The stylograph of memory, a sharp impress,
inscribes the mind with hypnogogic scenes.
The palimpsest of sorrow, a caress,
re-edits history, and what it means.
The chirograph of grief, a fluid line,
is the proleptic sorrow, all too fine.
The Chiasmus of the Heart
The chiasmus of the cardiac design,
a mirrored structure, a reversed embrace.
The beat is sorrow, and the beat is mine,
and in that paradox, I find my place.
The antimetabole of feeling, a sharp return,
is the only lesson that we ever learn.
The Circumbendibus of Hope
The circumbendibus of hope, a round-about
and periphrastic path, avoids the truth.
The elliptical deferral, the private doubt,
denies the sorrow of a lost-out youth.
A long and winding anodyne, a soft excuse,
is the otiose indulgence we can use.
The Thaumaturge of Silence
The thaumaturge of silence, a skilled hand,
performs a mummery of breathless art.
The prestidigitation, and the command,
is to make absent what was once a part.
The aporia of the voice, a clever trick,
is the ultimate pathos, quick and slick.
The Hagiology of Stone
The hagiology of stones, a pious lore,
narrates the lives of things that stand and wait.
The lithochromes, a history of before,
the testament to an indifferent fate.
The lapidary legend, sharp and cold,
is the only story that was ever told.
The Apocryphal Testament
The apocryphal last will, an unread page,
contains a codicil for the unknown.
The illegible language, a cryptic stage,
on which the paraclete performs alone.
The eschatology of a last bequest,
is the teleological and final test.
The Monody for the Absent Bell
The monody for the unavailing sound,
the keening of a bell that will not ring.
The silent toponym of the churchyard ground,
the absent anthem that the choir could sing.
The tintinnabulation, a remembered grace,
is the periphrasis of a vacant space.
The Parergon of the Soul
The parergon of the spirit, a side-piece,
embellishes the outline of the frame.
The otiose decoration, an empty lease,
of purpose, and of an unuttered name.
The hypnopompic flourish, a final sweep,
is the silent vigil that the phantoms keep.
The Vespertine Contemplation
The vespertine cicada, in its drone,
propounds the silence of the setting sun.
A lucubration on the monotone,
a final thought before the day is done.
The crepuscular reflection, a soft gleam,
is the oneiric promise of a dream.
The Carious Cadence
The carious rhythm, a decay of sound,
is the percussion of a dying heart.
The osseous music, on the hallowed ground,
is the hypallage of a work of art.
The decrepit beat, a slow and silent plea,
is the eschatology of memory.
The Final Catachresis
The final catachresis, the ultimate bend,
where language breaks and nothing is what it seems.
A metaphoric silence, without end,
the final solace of our fractured dreams.
The syzygy of feeling and of thought,
the ultimate nothing that was always sought.
The Periphrastic Farewell
The periphrastic exit, a long goodbye,
encapsulates the spirit's quiet flight.
A circumbendibus, a circuitous cry,
a pale and circumlocutory night.
The elliptical surrender, a whispered vow,
a paraclete for what is ending now.
The Proleptic Lament
The proleptic sorrow, a future tear,
is wept before the grief has yet to come.
A retrochronous feeling, fraught with fear,
anticipates the silent, empty hum.
The apophasis of joy, the whispered word,
becomes the ineluctable, unheard.
The Chthonic Canticle
The chthonic cadence, a subterranean hum,
reverberates through ossified remains.
The carious earth, a slow and silent drum,
resounds with lithochromes and ancient pains.
The psychopompic echo, faint and deep,
disturbs the entelechy of those who sleep.
The Mnemnonic Trope
The mnemnonic trope, a rhetorical trace,
recalls the eidetic image, soft and worn.
A synecdoche of loss, a perfect space,
where all is remembered, and is reborn.
The hypallage of time, a strange design,
makes what is lost, a permanent confine.
The Panegyric for the Void
The panegyric for the void, a song of praise,
for the anachronistic, empty space.
An epideictic ode, in countless ways,
recounts the history of its dark grace.
The encomium for nothing, a loud acclaim,
is the only way to say the void's true name.
The Plangent Syllogism
The plangent syllogism, a sad decree,
the logic of a cold and final truth.
The mournful predicate, a certainty,
the terminus of an ephemeral youth.
The apodictic premise, a clear end,
is the only argument we can defend.
