He had antimatter eyes that exploded on contact with
anything that mattered, and he
delivered summaries of winter to snowflakes while
stirring milky whey into his tea
(it's a cup of infinity, he said).
He wound clockwork paradoxes into nautilus shells that,
when activated, gave extinction repetition,
and blew transcendence into transient things.
He winked
and alluded to lewd illusions,
brushed dewdrops from Jupiter's turbulent eyes while he
played out a somnambulant tragedy.
In his pocket he kept a paradigm that
only cost a nickel, a promise, and ambivalence.
(Try not to think of it as a death toll, he said.)
He maundered between halves and black holes and
oscillated between fundamentals and elementals
(it's all mental anyway, he said).
He dressed entropy in quark suits and string ties,
he sewed nescience into the nuances of scientists who later
discovered the essence of apotheosis in apoptosis. Then he
set his materials aside and he
offered me a different end.
(It's a sideways eight, he said.)


A/N: I did a painting that's sort of a companion piece to this. It's on my DeviantART page (link on the about-me section of my FictionPress page). The piece is called "Cosmic Tea."

Okay, due to the critiques of a reviewer, I did change some things around. Some of them were bothering me anyhow, he just gave me the incentive to fix them.

Please understand that it's not supposed to have a deeper meaning... it's just wordplay for fun, not my personal profound philosophical beliefs or anything. Not all poetry is a slice of intellectual pie... this is whip creme: mostly decorative, pressurized air and sugar, fun to play with, and full of unneeded calories. Sorry for the pathetic analogy, but it gets the point across.