on entropy

what an odd feeling to know one is leaving
but not to have left yet
i walked on a path today littered with bottles and trash
and wondering do they feel stuck like myself?
do they wish they could leave their state of organization and move back into entropy
rejoin nature as they ought to

organic matter only means that which had carbon in it
i am organic matter
but does my matter matter?
are my atoms coalesced into meaning, or are they just atoms?
the rush that i feel is just dopamine
i take what i can glean from literatue and art
still flows in the ventricles of my heart

desperately holding to false information
i am no scientist
i am a mathematician
i love not the how, but the integrals of complicated functions
the sines and cosines of Fourier series
though they too have no inherent meaning

i do not know
what seems to have none

the trash on the road
which floats, is just the careless
nature of humanity

frowning and failing
to leave

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from vita

do I dare tell her that her eyes are an hazel tree’s trunk?
that her soul is light and arcadian, so pure and naive?
her voice is the sound of a babbling brook, and her mind …

her mind is lavender blue
such a color that even the late night sky
gets jealous because her
every thought is so
entrancing, so idyllic and melancholy.
the rain pours harder when I’m with her
the sun stays up late to paint a pinky cloud in appreciation of her laughter

to taste her lips
to run my fingers through her hair
down her neck
to trace the hollows of her delicate collar bone

her very presence unnerves me
i cannot help looking at her whole being shines with the pale glow of the moon

we raced down the street
dashing in spring air to watch “the longest and most charming love letter in literature”

when will I see her
whom i cannot turn from
i long
tomorrow and tomorrow is too far away

and if you and her are the same—and only she will know
i never seen violet, purple, lilac and thought solely of you
never been so flustered and enamored all at once

i spend an inordinate amount of time
just thinking of you

i am ridiculous
i am utterly infatuated
i would mock myself were i another person
alas it is i
tossed and whirled

i lament that you most likely do not care for me the way I do for you
ah well, if all is to fade
hear this

periwinkle

I can’t quite decide whether this should be a song or a poem, but I will leave that for a later time. Many of the lines reference Orlando by Virginia Woolf which was written to her lover, the poet Vita Sackville-West.

i brought you violets and blue bells
we walked through hazy paths
on soft dewy grass
i could not see anyone but you

your eyes are hazel, deep like the oak tree
a fox in the snow
on pineapple sighs
i could not hear anyone but you

could we skate over the frozen thames
and dance under the cold ice gleam?
i am no russian doll
and you no english noble

you and i swing in a periwinkle, lavender dream
fair dresses, floating desire and shimmering rings
sweet kisses abound but …
there’s too much going on, not enough in my head
all the words that need saying i cannot say them
you are lovely to behold

your smile has the grace of a queen
twirl your soft hair round my finger
say you’ll always remember
i could not bear anyone but you

could we skate over the frozen thames
and dance under the cold lunar lights?
you are no russian doll
and i no english noble