T.O.E. (After Brian Greene)

 

A tear in the universe

the big the small

            together at last

or for now

warping curving

            in the matter at hand

 

Space and time

star players

            in every event

the ups and downs

of quarky atoms

            keeping company

with lonely neutrinos

eons of muons

            colliding with the eye

of my being

 

Boldly I am present

in all of this family affair

            introducing matter to anti-matter

just because I can

            quark offspring

strange but charming

            at bottom

to the top

cousins in tau

 

I do not resist

            the different masses

the force charges

            maybe God is in the details

 

I am strong as gluon

            I am as electromagnetic as photon

I am as weak as weak gauge bosons

            I am as attractive as gravity

is to graviton

 

I have the world

            on a string

dancing swooping looping

            oscillating vibrating

no longer incompatible

            with Einstein and Planck

  

 

I am the

            Theory

of

            Everything

or the           

            Essence

of

            Nothing

 

E.O.N/T.O.E

 

Siobhán Ó Mócháin Breathnach  

April 17, 2011

              Arrow of Time

 

Time outside the shackles of the heart

Clocks indifferent strokes and

Files passion’s hunger under broke,

 

Beneath the dreams of sullen stars

Rotates a callous moon,

Paints then flings the artist’s canvas

 

            Into another’s seeker’s mind

            To bend a truth

            One more time.

 

Time on the circuit running in place

Away from hands that bind apace

Hours, minutes, seconds,

 

Hounded by the sound of ticking

Skips the poet’s beat

Shreds her words and sneaks

 

            Into another seeker’s mind

            To blend a truth

            One more time.

 

Time in charge of end times play

Stores word, paint and song

For a future star-crossed day

 

            When bereft of time and tide

            To stretch a vision

            For life to bide,

 

It yields to close of night and day -

A favor kept to gods of old, and

Bids adieu slipping away

 

To fashion Time another way.

 

Siobhán Ó Mócháin Breathnach                       

December 31, 2012

Quantum Leap

 

The Cosmos

covers my moist birth

in warm silence.

I lie within its sacred folds

bask with buoyant abandon

beside nebulae’s

ineffable infinity.

Too soon

I am pushed forward

into the vastness

into uncertainty.

 

I am Woman

a vulnerable species

I dream I am wandering

in a lunar rain forest.

I hear the murmur

of veteran immunities

struggling to survive

distracted by my heavy step.

They take flight

ruptured

by my humanity

mourn my presence

rushing quietly

from the noise

I am making

feeling endangered.

 

Circumnavigating mysteries

of time and space

fixed then unfixed

here then there

my quantum eye

speeds in all directions.

Light sequences flash

before me.

Electrons are humming

a song of the universe.

Cosmic scents 

perfume my path.

 

A wormhole beckons

I take its whorling path.

There time is silent

sleeping with space.

The universe moves

over me

indifferently.

Light waves span

my solar-centeredness.

I see sound

pitching high

disturbing distance.

Efficiently dopplered

I am timed out.

In sun-dipped harvests

of night blackness

The Moon Goddess

reigns

and turns away from

a billion talking eyes

turned upward.

Submerged in the bosom of time

I drift with the continents

stretching my being

across magnetic waves

toward a poetry

of existence. 

 

Siobhán Ó Mócháin Breathnach 

July 17, 2009

Mound

 

I seek to be buried at home

like a famous president

 

But the wanderlust carcass

I own will find no space there

 

for ancestors fill the earth

with reams of poems

 

and dark shadows

mark the site

 

where they were slain

while dreaming

 

 

Siobhán Ó Mócháin Breathnach 

September 4, 2004

Mariposas, Pajaros y Luz (After Eugenio Montejo, 1938-2008)

 

Do not burden

poetry

            with overbearing words and

too much wisdom.

 

Be more ardent

than logical

            let poetry be

its intrinsic self

humanity’s necessary

storehouse of passion

 

Let mariposas flutter

            and pajaros sing

beneath la luz del dia

and dark of night

 

Don’t try so hard

and

            make poetry squirm

be quiet and

it will come.

 

Siobhán Ó Mócháin Breathnach 

April 29, 2012