Aught, no. 6 (2001)

Thomas Fink

Colloid Tale I

Nonlinearity decided to ask

bifurcation about the honey. But, when
it was looking for function

at friction’s house, it contracted
only dissipation, high in a system. “I’m
producing what a nice equation

said I should do,” it swirled, “conquering
my model of fibrillation.” The crater
returned, though, when an analogue
cracked under it, and turbulence

folded, all ready to intersect
orbits. But the drift wouldn’t bounce
all the way; all we could do was
to catch an attractor on the mechanism
down. An avalanche of electrons

from a phase transition’s tree
sent the axis rolling toward
renormalization’s scaling. Now
this pendulum was not expecting
fluid. Their garden feedback
said it was Crystal Day. “Even

if you think you’re not topological,”
she told their oscillation, “we go
by the mercury.” But, before they could
arc a single cascade, he was
swept toward non-rhythm’s period-
doubling of twigs. The tumble left
everyone without even one spike

over counter-intuition. When
they’d rolled it to a spectrum,
vibration showed everybody a finite
tilt. “Why don’t we magnetize
the instabilities?” a particle dared
to ask. Now an entropy basin meant
wavelength to dribble’s house. Equilibrium
studied the superconductivity

carefully, then bound it
globally. “Vibrate about me; I’m
clustering far away.” “And that,”
convection added, “spelled flapping
for our brink.” “We must
help him wander,” lag said. “Ah!
You’re iterating on a grid.” She
drew dust and told them of the galactic
circuit blob they would be monitoring.

 

Eel Chord

Enough

fluid hokum,
molten dweeb.

Atop berg,
vine diva
davens

steam:
rusting fronds,
sweat lines

on sky
level. Stunned

mica blush.

 

Colander News

We don’t recognize eyebrows from the horny
playground. Terrible swath of lichen.
The bride is normed as brisk and bearded.
Regrettably toylike, the groom’s late penance:
a carbon. Some marriage is what they
crudely steamed all along. Wonder if the tour
was more mildewed than you might have gleaned.
Some make poor obfuscators, but an odalisque
colander takes charge. Self-sacrifice

earmarked for the incrementally parsimonious
candle harangued by Pentium.
Cat scan aporia reverb.
Is it his pariah supplement
that she quaffed? Could it be a dysfunctional
elbow in the jumpsuit? Something serially
rigged about the corporation? Bodily unsure

of diaphragm gold? You were a
cylindrical tennis cabin, yet way too often,
tearjerk thunder ripe for major polyps.
Before a group of screws, you
treated me with onions; when I reached a higher

fleece, you got eastern. The crew used to wax
adenoidal about our screwball cliffhangers. With
mucho iterative graphing, this subsided. To pizza.


Copyright 2001, by the author. All rights reserved.
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