——To Antoi Gaudi
“One that goes from Earth to eternity, to the highest.”


He was the genius architect in the first place

Using matter, pure and fine
He makes the life that he intends

But in arts pattern, and in science design
At the second place, he was a craftsman
where rigorous rectangles border
a dreaming perspective, where a stream
awakened, he created his life ideal


Then third, he was the naturalist,
Using all he has inspired, he stated
“The big book, always open and we
must strive to read” is that of nature
Least not last, fourthly, he was a guru
“the straight line belongs to men
the curved one to God ” Likewise
Movement meets stillness, a line meets a shout

He was always there in the history of Basilica
Architecture and Geometry
Art of fantasy and algebra wonders

"... and we were like parallel lines. We were not destined for each other and will never be."

"It depends on what type of geometry you're referring to. In hyperbolic geometry, parallel lines meet at an ideal point - a point at infinity. I don't mind living in hyperbolic space. Would you?"

~dedicated to the old poets here~

the addictive pairing of certain words, a line,
a lyric, slap-snapping you to full attention,
unfailing decades of instant recognition,
an adrenaline + caffeine shot that powers

a chance, a tensile injection that causes

the lips to commence a new choreography,
the fingers to tap, a jumbled, hurried, embattled
disorderly mess that regenerates, reformulates,
concords into agreement, a harmonic consistency

a geometry of many differing angles that equate

a hard physical, a soft mentality in a singled work,
coexisting in a sacred state of singed confluence,
though imperfect, satisfies mathematical boundaries
of a random outpouring, crowning the stripe inspiring

the spark that finally satisfyingly silences an ignited

filament a-glowing for years, that holy happens
to cross your antennae, fulfilling the need to honor,
the sacred geometry of chance, the honor to need,
the joy of saying, at last, this unwritten debt, paid!


————————————————————————-
(1) a favorite of many years, a lyric from “The Shape of My Heart” by Sting

(2) Dec 3 2020 2:53pm  NYC

Changing directions.
Shapes speak with points of bending.
A journey of lines.

i can't draw
i don't know how to
only sometimes
i get a flash
of fake inspiration
from my own
swelled head

at least i can draw a square
but wait,
the lines aren't straight

then i realize
no one can draw a square
not without a ruler
at least