magenta mists and binary shadows by @_Minaret
The numbers I tossed on a piece of paper stare back
with quiescent wajd Your lemmas endure hāl
on the way-stations of proof. transfinite patterns in a fractal tree.
unearth Ibn-e-Myskuea oeuvre the outpourings of love.
The terrace levitates me at the helm of space
Auroras flickers above: dancing spectre tricked out
in pastel coloured veils, earmarked a heretic.
As a line, I've got my angles right:
to the vector belong the spoils.
I pull through megrims, and sail via orison mats.
You're all gimbal wires and no bridge—
I'm about to be swallowed up by the 24th hour;
how your words emit digital non-ink
I can envisage that gall and bitterness roiling on your face,
it makes me want to hold you in my arms
and punch you in the midriff. : where I coast in neutral
without the soul.
this seeming film of cobwebs floating in calm clear night.
Convince the world you don't exist but only your words.
Chase me up and down the alphabet, I am the dance
of numbers into infinity and you haven't come up with
the definition yet.
To my questing eyes,
You're on the verge of....
written by @_Minaret
curated from twitter feed by @deja_raconte
#FeedPoetry is where I curate twitter timelines and arrange tweets into poems.