True shield of Aten, color of Van Gogh’s
Beard, in an eggy apron of aloes
My skin I present to you. O mushroom
Atomic; aureola at noon; yolk; bloom
Atop Earth’s dome of blue: meet your black pupil
(That other dot that lords a dome). Beneath, Virgil
Haunts the underworld; snails work the vine;
All figures find their ground: imagination sublime.
Conspire with me to make this afternoon
Divine; to fluster flesh to sweat and swoon;
To swell to sweetness grapes that droop the way;
To shower beads of pearl on a barren bay.
I need you to see; you need consciousness to be.
Light’s cross with mind bears Schrödinger’s mystery.
Poem by Santi Tafarella, 2011
See this poem as a Wordle here.