Math odes are written on cathodes from a
language fine in binary rhyme; from the
equational script that gives witness to
the hollows and holes between the stars.
Hypothetic syllables trip across the tongue and
shape the chaotic free meter of perception.
Test tubes alliterate a poem in the rational mind.
Somewhere, maybe in the quantum daydreams
that fill the world when no one is watching,
the alchemists and the conjurers are glad;
vindicated by a philosopher's stone
afloat in plasma gas, waiting on a tokamak trick.
About the Poem
This poem tries to speak with poetry about a subject most people don't consider very poetic--science. I find a great deal of beauty in science and wanted to express some of that.
tokamak: n. a toroidal device for producing controlled nuclear fusion that involves the confining and heating of a gaseous plasma. Webster's Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary.
This poem is previously unpublished in print.