Schrödinger’s Poet

Schrödinger’s Poet

Look there!
The Sun is a spent cinder
in the gutter
concurrently
bleeding heat over my grey field

I am dead
I am alive
I am alive and dead in simultaneous, linear combination
a macroscopic indeterminacy
a quantum absurdity

You, the observer, can reconcile
the paradox
Only you

If it can be resolved
if you need resolution

I can only remember being alive
At least I think I am alive
as I write this poem

You can decide

Though you may observe my death
or see news of it somewhere
or make it so

then as you read this poem you will know
I am alive
at least for you
even though
I’ve been long boxed and shipped

I’ve not even thought of this
poem
since I wrote it

Too many beers, pills and lost brain cells
too many interests and contradictions
countless dead Suns
Paul Blackburn
Art Nick Victor