Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

graphite , plasma
high frequency
high amperage current
ceramic tube
ceramic tube inside larger tube
containment sphere
high pressure graphite salt water slurry
heat exchanger electron capacitor capture
control pumps

Drawing in note book "google "leafsailors ghost" posted on photo sharing sight
it is the round thing

ultraviolet
infrared
prismatic shadows
dance like lovers
there is science in love
love in science
we are mere specks
dots on a map of all that
has come before us
listen
you will hear the tiny echoes
of the band

nuclear
new clear
this pen that
laser fuses
pretty soon we'll
be zappn rebar
with raygun welds
no more wire

high tech
low brow
old men resist
the new world some daze
who you tellin'
to get outta the way
I like my pace
helps me see things
things you miss
but have to admit
you're fast
thing is, women don't like that

spin coupling
decoherence
quantum entanglement
a new libretto
set to the music of the spheres
uncertainty
schroedinger's damned cat
wanted: dead and alive
dark matters
yes it does
else there'd be no light
photons
leptons
baryons
barnyards full
of particles
within particles
begetting
yet more particles
where will it end?
will it end?
gigavolt colliders
teravolts
petavolts
bigger
stronger
(better?)
are we discovering
.
.
.
or creating?

ultraviolet mind
infrared eyes
pendulum prism swings like eternity
to and fro 'cross the color wheel
I am a smorgasbord of light
ricocheting, penetrating
there is oneness with the rock,
the tree, the bee
molecules meld like lovers
oxygen is shared like a malt
with two straws, tribal elders
give thanks for brother buffalo
politicos can't see a thing

this grand creation
untidy organics
fractal dendrites
fingers curling forth
to grasp light's infinite colors
ultraviolet to infrared
and beyond
how strange
how sad
that the powers that be
who thrive
on telling us what to do
and what not to do
for all their power
remain blind to all colors
but two -
the spectral lines
of silver and gold

green ...blinds the one percenters
they have lousy agents, men
with no eyes, no ears, no imagination
Albert told me the most beautiful emotion
of all that exists, be it science or art,
is the mysterious, yes I am a scientist
it's true enough, but why does everyone
assume I am without religion

in the shadows of all experiences
there is something whose sublimity
reaches us by the phantom railroad,
sparks flying from tracks that vanish
into the impossible horizon,
once you no longer stand it awe of the unknown
you are like a house of cards in the wind

there are wonders our minds may never touch
this is religiousness, and in that sense
I am devout......I see so many colors

a familiar sight
for me
albert's desk
I see it every morn
clean it in the early am.
it returns in the evening
signs, signs, everywhere
activity, ya doin something here....

stained glass
creaking pews
robed attendants
sit, stand, kneel, stand
stand, sit, kneel, pray
recite words
written by others
think thoughts
thought by others
I, heretic
in pagan worship
of budding leaves
drinking the sunlight
of phoebes
insistently building mud nests
on my porch
of spring peepers
offering the chilly twilight
their songs of fertility
and truth
I dwell in an infinite church
built not by the lowest bidder
but by a cosmic one
beyond walls

cosmic church spins
like the medicine wheel
the totems are stacked
to tell the stories, the bee
the bird, the squirrel, the
whirling information for those
that tune in, it's there
in the winds of change, in the
primordial dust floating
in plain sight when the eyes
are not too busy making plans, I
worship the sun for she is my
sister, I pray to the moon
for he is my brother, I hug the tree
without a shred of shame
from closed minded morons
with myopia, forgettaboutem
my seat at the picnic table is warm
from all the life that has come
just before me, and I am merely
a child of many, a dot on map
in the middle of the deep blue sea
an islet of truth and hope and love

one beautiful thread
i'm fused to it

if tomorrow your retina fails
to function will the sky still be blue,
if you grew up in a black and white environment
will you still accept the rainbow children
what if an open mind is flooded
with over-stimulating sensations
that subdue the language of consciousness
with the rote power of mere computation
remember
even before there was a theory
lightning had always been an electrical discharge
i mean you don't need a DNA test
to know identical twins
and the strike zone is only a suggestion
we are all umpires sizing up the curve ball
hunters like Orion , we look for personal truth
not every reality is concrete
some are amorphous chameleons
that slither between the bands
of ontological thought

I'll take your ontological thought
and raise you 2 opossums
seriously, there was a complete
rainbow over frederick just now
that transcended all boundaries
of space time continuum, damn I didn't
know that was spelled with 2 u's

lightning and rainbows
over Fred Rock, he's
a composer of weather
events, and what a job
he does, horizon to horizon
he's the man, seldom seen
like The Seldom Scene
a bluegrass man with a penchant
for the dramatic, blazing stars
shooting like meteorites
of the mind, across the bands
of time, the bands of rock and roll
he's a Playa, that old Fred Rock
like Flintstone before him, like
Astaire, he dances, he yabba dabba
Doooo's