winter hazed into a nebula

doe of the tree
....it seemed

black comets in sockets
....where eyes should be
....the goldcrest scaled
....the fir

scupper its butterfly dance
....you
....bellyround song thrush
....round with stars

the blizzard just a foggy
....memory
....now thick snow fanned the forest

in drier furrows
....yellow ribbonhead
....cried
....as the song thrush
....diminished

all earthworms

Hiatus

Upon an oak
its agaty breast heaved
into a moon,
then the kingfisher fell,
wings fanned open
like Japan.

Moorhens climbed
up naked roots
as the dog dragged me
through thorns;
blood welled over my hands
into cherries.


Read by Canadian poet R L Raymond

Mathematics: the language of the universe?

Darren Aronofsky's first film Pi was a black and white thriller about a recluse, Max Cohen, a mathematical genius who believed that everything in the universe could be understood through numbers including the stock exchange. His search for an answer eventually led to his discovery of a 216 digit number which attracted the attention of a money-hungry agent of Wall Street as well as a Hasidic Jew studying mathematical patterns in the Torah, a practice known as Gematria. A memorable quote by Max Cohen sums up the gist of the film;

"Restate my assumptions: One, Mathematics is the language of nature. Two, Everything around us can be represented and understood through numbers. Three: If you graph the numbers of any system, patterns emerge. Therefore, there are patterns everywhere in nature."

Many mathematicians, such as Jack Cohen and Ian Stewart are arguing that numbers are indeed the language of our universe. However, there is a big problem which the two mathematicians are keen to point out. How sure can we be that the "laws of nature" we believe to be universal are genuine patterns? As humans we have exploited the cognitive niche throughout our evolutionary history, all the senses we have developed are specialised for that niche alone. Yet an alien may have evolved in an environment so different to ours that our senses may not respond to what they experience and feel. It is highly likely that communication with alien creatures would be difficult if not impossible. Still, mathematics could be a good way to start. So how are we trying to communicate across the galaxies?

In the 1970s an unmanned space program was launched called the Voyager program, a pair of probes which carried with them information for intelligent life, they are still operating today and are expected to work until 2025 at which point the electrical power will no longer be sufficient. Included was a disc containing 115 photographs with a picture of a supermarket and a photograph of Jane Goodall surrounded by chimpanzees. However the third photograph comprised of mathematical definitions so someone obviously thought this was important.

The search goes on for signs of intelligent life and the SETI project is searching for any radio activity that could prove the existence of alien life. In 1977 the famous "Wow! signal" was received and is argued by some to be the most likely candidate of intelligent life. Its name came from a comment scribbled at the side of the signal by its discoverer, Dr. Jerry Ehman and it is believed that the signal was transmitted from the constellation Sagittarius with Tau Sagittarii being the closest visible star to the location.

Some scientists such as Stephen Hawking believe that it is highly likely that alien life does exist, but any attempts to communicate across the galaxies are dangerous, for it is unknown whether they would be hostile to us; as colonisers were to Native Americans for example. Still, from the sound of things, communication wouldn't exactly be easy...

the dawn

the roots became portals
to a place where space
arched into capillaries

over the breadth of them
you called
with the conviction of a lamb

this is the cradle of existence
the dawning of space
just blue lines and bending time

the carpel was steeped
in fragrance
like nutmeg

my senses collapsed
I didn’t need them anymore














The Lorenz attractor

Dartford Warbler

The red eyes
of Dartford warblers
are veiled by gorse bushes
that wallow
in timeworn thorns.

Two scrawny legs catch a branch;
its tail bobs
as it warbles
a song that rises like bamboo

over the heath.
This is where I’ll eat my sandwiches,
in this crook of goodness
where the birds burst and croon.

brighton beach

he had a scar on his hand..... a carpenter’s wound

except he had no tools or wood

only liquor

to keep out the cold

his hands were scrunched tight

and a trail of lucent water flowed down

from his waist to the sea

I stopped and stared for a while

unable to move into his world but

it didn’t matter

the ambulance came..... and before long

the stranger was tucked into a bag like a loaf

it finally dawned

that for the homeless..... even in death

dignity is absent

tawny owl

the owl was an awl

flapped its wings once or twice

before piercing the air

tearing into the emptiness..... a funnel

rolling the air into shavings

the rock remained still

so that’s its home

a bracken mesh

I navigate through this landscape like a polaron

mining the northern flank

praying for another sighting..... I smile

for that small owl

with eyes like darkling beetles

was startled into a cadence

far beyond reckoning