By Thomas Page

I am student teaching a senior level class in Washington, DC. They have to write some poems on these prompts. I decided to try all 30 of them. However, I will not say what the prompt was but what its number was.

Prompt #28

The sciences, the onus of humanity, tries to parse all into Humean parts

Like destroying a Waterford into jagged micro-shards

That, in theory, explain the universe all the way to Neptune

And the gassy starts pilfering the elements into a crunching freeze,

Like the leftover lemon-pepper tenderloin in the freezer forgotten

Needing one of Doc Frankenstein’s devilish amperes to revitalize

Into something that could be sold as primetime fare.

The arts, the quartz in humanity’s radio, tries to parse all into Kantian parts

Like insisting that the monorail is faster than driving yourself

Building basilicas in the mind of fantastic stories of dragons and queens

Looking to paint the ceiling in the condensation found in the rocks

From the quarry lost in time and shaped in geometric forms

Dwelling in the gravity’s final act in holding it all in

For the sake of itself in gregarious fashion.

I grated from the school of arts and sciences yet

I tend to separate the two like a joey and its kangaroo

Looking for something that is chaotically uniform

Trying to be and not be the ziggurat in the ancient square

When the philosophers rose from the sea for the rest of time

Until, for some reason, the era of the rotary phone

Making the whole endeavor seem frivolous.

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