Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

We seem a little destitute.
The banks all changed names.
They can't figure the code either.
They shuffle our money like wind,
but we're in space now.

In the hallway I notice physics.
I sense a planet turning, slight drift.
Imagine how many physics equations
brought us here to stand in a hall?
Centrifugal yields to gravity,
and gravity oddly to art.
Space is tricky.

"space is tricky"
but money is trickier
the absolute of numbers
shuffling at will like wind

Space is incomprensible, infinite. I love your thoughts on this Thursday morning.

John

... something about that tiny hallway in this tiny little 1924 bungalow I inhabit, somehow attuned to planetary rumble and spin (haha). Well, the place is literary at least. It makes me write. Thanks Cecil, John.

they'll never learn, the banks, trying to calculate fate,
their computers are bound up in mathematical rules,
when it takes a whole chalkboard of equations just
to prove that one plus one equals two...twist in physics,
wow...1924?

walt

Si, 1924. The place is not as spry as it used to be. Some sagging floor boards in one corner and things like that. But I love these places built back in the roaring twenties. Even the smaller lower-middle-class bungalows were built with some style...

'24 is newer than my home... about a hundred years ago, my house was a barn, then it was moved and erected as a house. It's built
on one rock. All the outside edges are straight, I just had to jack up
the 1st and 2nd floors to take out the sag, then put in three big beams. There are the diagonal braces, mortise and tenon, and pegs. It don't look pretty, but you couldn't pull it down with a tractor
either. Sweet deal though on 2 acres, one neighbor, farmland all
around us on top of a small mountain....

walt

The only bank to put your trust in is a river bank.....
Thoughtful write Nazzy
H

Imagine how many physics equations
brought us here to stand in a hall?

yes...imagine that. the beautiful coincidence of it all...and yet, it's no coincidence at all. the universe works in mysterious ways.

space is tricky

...and how. what if we could "jump" space (nevermind time...just space)...what if we could see how space is so unfathomably huge and yet a spec of dust all at once...

gravity [yields] to art

...explain that please

I can't. Gravity is one of those things that doesn't seem to yield at all. And I doubt if art depends on gravity. They just seemed married for a second in that hallway, though centrifugal was trying to throw it all off into space..

oh but it does...gravity yields to fantasy (how many times do we drift off and forget about reality)...& you get to fly. art does that too. creating it and seeing it...it makes you lift off and see beyond what is real. it makes you escape.

i read your poem again and no, i wasn't trying to be a smarty pants and i didn't get what you were saying (at least not all of it) at the time. but...but. as i read your poem again i saw that by seeing the turn of the planet, & experiencing the mystery of chance, it was like art lifting you away from the dread of your everyday existence. for a moment you felt heavy and light at the same time. that's the universe telling you that there is more to life than the mundane and the chaos. there is beauty. there is a plan. and you are allowed to fly.

i hope i didn't sound like i want to teach you something mr. nazz., because being the poet here, you probably know all this already. i just saw it like that, just now, and i thought maybe you'd get something from it, if i tell it like i see it. thanks for sharing. i didn't know that i needed to hear that.