dancinghorse | We're All Waxing Poetic Today

Everyone's doing it--ganked from

deborahjross

Casting one's prose as poetry--mostly modernish free verse.

From untitled collaborative alt.hist. Mess-in-Progress:

These were gnats in the face of the infinite,
and it looked as if tonight there might be stars to count.
He had a new telescope,
which could see farther than any he had had before.
If the skies cleared,
who knew what marvels he would discover?

In the meantime he amused himself
with a variation on his new conceit
of space intertwined with time
and spinning off worlds like stars
from a skein of galaxies,
working out equations in his head,
and now and then jotting one
on the wall by the fire.

That particular wall was covered
with a knotwork of intertwining calculations,
drawn in charcoal and chalk and grease pencil
and even India ink,
depending on what had been to hand
when the inspiration struck.

The wall was getting full.
Aurelia would insist
on painting it over again,
had already threatened him with it.
"Write it on paper like a civilized man," she said,
"or lose it. I want my wall back."

"There's no need of paper,"
John had said to her then,
and said again now,
"when there's all of nature to contain it."