Monday, July 6, 2009

Fractal Poet

Fractal Fairy Tales

“Fractal Fairy Tales?
I was trying to write
a sci-fi story from
within the consciousness
of one being who was
actually remembering
the memories of someone
else who had the memories
of generations of themselves
who had lived before...and I
came up with cleave poetry.”
—Phuoc-Tan Diep

Once upon a time—I smoked
Some Acapulco Gold—before going
To a party—in the U-District
Back when I was—a rather
Brainless—Hippie Slacker

It was a dark & rainy night—
I didn’t have anything else
To do—other than be who
I was—twenty years old
Pretty laid back—and loaded

Stacks of books—everywhere
No matter where I’d go—books
Following me like companions
Each book—a world inside
Me because—I’d read them

Going out the door—I paused
In front of a mirror—looking at
Myself—and what did I see?
A decadent hippie kid—standing
There nonchalantly—myself?

And then it happened—to me
My thin little moustache—started
Fractal pirouetting—just for me
Each tip curling up—at the tips
Into Art Nouveau—curly-cues

I was totally—aesthetically amazed
My moustache—had a life of its own!!!
Like Gogol’s Nose—it had intelligence
And humor—the way it performed
Its twisty mysterious—Tango!!!

The more I looked—the more
I got into it—the Fractal Moustache
The Other in the—Mirror wasn’t
Me at all—it was a Fractal Movie
Of who I’d been—way back when

Each twisty Nuance—told a story
Each curly-cue—a different me
I squinted my eyes—to see better
The Twilight Zone—all my Masks
We were all there—and then some!!!

Each Mask—a unique Existence
A fractal Expose—of who I was
Where I’d been—a Mob of me!!!
Reiterations fast forward—faster
Faster—smooth Mandelbrot me!!!

I tried to drag—myself away
I ended up—missing the Party
Finally sitting—in front of the
Bedroom mirror—sipping a
Coors Silver Bullet—blown away

I was a Fractal Orphan Boy—
My Exile was—truly Heartbreaking
There was no way—to Stop or
Catch-up with—the Déjà vu Kid
Who was Stranger—yet me!!!

My face became—a deck of cards
Shuffled fast—by some Card Shark
Late at night—on a dark Mississippi
Riverboat—Jacks of Diamonds—
How many Queens of Spades???

Benoît Mandelbrot—showed up
“How Long is the—Coast of Britain?”
I told him—I was going to ask him
The very same question—about me.
How much self-similarity—inside me?

A Julia set—came out of Nowhere
Then a Menger sponge—a Dragon curve
A Sierpinski triangle—thru my Eyeball
I had no idea—how many vector fields
Burning Ship fractals—were inside me?

All I knew—sitting in front of the mirror
I was lost—in a Sea of Self-Similarities
Exact, quasi and statistical—that was me
Coastlines of me—river networks, lightening
I was a Fractal Poet—I couldn’t help it!!!

Fractal art—was nothing new to me
Jackson Pollock’s paintings—all that chaotic
Dripping and splattering—very Fractalesque
The same with Decalcomania—the way
Max Ernst created fractals—in his studio

But what about Fractal Poetry—how to do it?
A series of non-linear images—reiterating
Recursively algorithmic—cleavages in time
To entertain me—in my modern decadent
Maturity now—world descending around me?

A series of—delicate Cloisonné carnations
A carnelian citrine/Swarovski golden world
A pearly rock candy red cinnabar visitation
A vermeil adventurine turquoise waterfall
A pink quartz lapis mother of pearl Cleave!!!

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