Thursday, December 15, 2011

I believe that Schroedinger’s cat is still alive…

A tattered old lady (yes, with pearls),
thirteen boys and girls from a nearby elementary school,
Michael and his famous dog Curly
and one lone swan flying in from Charleston, South Carolina;
all of them converged last evening
(just at sunset)
in Times Square.  NYNY

They danced together for a short while,
whirling past tourists and other ravenous beasts,
while the swan let loose a song of towering majesty.

I saw this myself
(this delicious pinpoint moment
in the space-time continuum)

with one eye fixed firmly on the truth,
the other eye on some kind of wonderful.

5 comments:

  1. written very quickly in response to a prompt on Poets United. Just don't ask...

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  2. Oh, I do want to know more, it is intriguing :D

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  3. Loved it. My daughter is always talking at me about Schroedinger's cat.

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  4. And we are each merely pinpoints in moments in time without end. Kind of wonderful, when you think about it.

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