NEW! Poem by Maureen Thorson

Maureen Thorson

BROWNIAN MOTION

Physicist,

take heed:

A vinelet’s

dust-like

pollen,

dispersed

on ponds

in purling

streaks,

forms points 

of random 

increase

befitting study.

A famous

oracle

was formed

by fumes

whose molecules

resembled

these—

just so 

our every

sparking

synapse swans,

producing

personality

by irregular

degrees,

selves

alterable—

up to a point—

by remembered

melodies,

unanticipated

touches,

the grand

chancy, quantum

scheme

of things.

I think—

at least,

I think I do—

that our

enraptured brains,

strung 

with memes

like Christmas

trees,

garlanded

in glowing rings,

are tangled 

skeins 

defying 

explanation.

Outlook hazy.

Try again.

From dust to dust,

we succumb

to bleak causation,

but effects

are hard to forecast:

For every bet

that loses,

one will win.