A Response to a “Lack of Color”

I see hexagonal cylinders,

web work composed by arachnid builders.

Mitochondrial geodesic domes,

frosted corners of symmetrical cones,

latticework and scaffolding invented,

each unit grown the rate of nanometer per photon intake.

Trajectory curvatures from gross weight

slingshots about orbs in open space.

A sphere’s efficient shape

twists and tumbles, a pace we cannot relate.

Parallel lines and horizontal extensions do not meet

spiral circumference, calculated error, statistical defeat.

Additional dimensions create possibility, not absolutely.

Skies of blue: refraction of light

omits a spectrum Earth cannot see,

its residents vicariously.

Clouds of white: strands of wisps absorbing

threads and strings and blue pearls man ‘o war

drifting tentacles pulsing waves shorn condensing fall,

slide marbles ’til terminal curves flatten tails,

drop to pools of waves expanding, flowing

over obstruction reversing destructive interference.

Trees of green: roots of scales and branching tubers

converging to vaster arteries sucked

to inversion open air, extending out fractal

imperfect dance to individual nuanced patterns of

stereotyped veined formations, living and dying the breath

of consistent astronomical intent.

Babies cry: they loose electric signals, freshly

paved pathways of sensory perception,

imagination influx articulating fearful instance.

A world: growing outward ever more stacked

shells of interlaced generations, building above and atop

dying systems organic, artificial, and abstract.

Paper avalanches submerge spelunking adventurers

mining golden words, baskets of ink-stained

scrolls discovered under mountains discarded,

significant, but not whole-hearted.

A thankless mission wading through dreck for

permission to find a paid position in interconnected

machinery-bloated frustration.

An oxygenated continuum ever regenerating, but grease drying

with asymptotic declination.

Roses look red, violets look blue,

tulips look yellow occasionally,

bees look striped, some tigers look white,

but cardboard is corrugated,

because reason is truth

and colors are debated.