Laboratory of Mathematics and Writing

Never have I seen the moon so dim Her face so pale and noble Shining for all the oceans to admire But no more. The mighty hand of space opens up like the wings of a raven casting shadows across the sea,mountain, and valleys But as the cold blanket of darkspace descends upon my moon and paints her worshipers a darker shade of color one by one, the stars emerge As if to arrive from distant shores Galactic travelers equipped with torches set to light our way. Now they sit still Awaiting our departure. Worshipers, Arise! The light of the moon is fleeting. Like birds you must fly Towards the tides of space. So that all the oceans we contain, may come to life.

Cuando escuho esa cancion, Mi corazon se llena de pasion. Siento mi alma brotar con deseo Extendiendose a las estrellas. Via galactica! Guiame a los campos de flores Que yo tanto anhelo! Entregame a los brazos De la luna que yo Tanto amaba! Que me acaricie con la luz de sus ojos. Y con un suspiro apasionado, Me establece en una flotilla En las orillas del mar. Dejame so˜nar entre las olas mas suaves. Quiero despertar En un bosqe verduroso Llenos de pajaros cantores. ...Campos de flores... Mi querida en mis brazos Decorada con petalos de rosa. Jamas te deseare. Jamas te extranare.

There are one thousand birds in the sky Each and ever single one of them is going to die Some will die in the solitude of their nest, At home witht their eyes closed, the final rest Some will die at the gun’s savage roar, A violent sound, final descent, what bloody horror. Some will meet their end within the jaws of a predator A crunching of the bone, gnawing of the heart, ripping of flesh, ultra gore But so long as they fly high, So long as there are clouds in the sky, So long as there is wind in their wings, Vibrations in the air, the sea, and in all things, They are free to live As long as they can Among leaves in the trees The cascading waters and the dancing daffodils.

Theres a fire that burns inside a house made of bricks that groan and sigh as they lay atop one another. The windows reflect images of utter discontent much like mirrors during a funeral procession. The doors of every room moan as they swing to let you see whats inside; only crumpled writings, faded photos, broken toys and a dead cat. The paintings that once decorated these rooms fell broken to the floor. Layers of paint peeling off the canvas like Flowers once adorned the window sill. Now their petals lay dried and shriveled up on the filthy carpet In the kitchen the sink is filled with dirty dishes And on the table sits a steak that rotted long ago, filling the room with a pungent stench. Of death, perhaps. Theres an old man beside the fire Whom no one would bother He sits in his wooden chair Rocking back and forth. Watching, waiting. For his days are numbered. Where did it all go? The clock sprouted feet and marched out the front door. Not even bother