Poems by Aryanil Mukherjee  Isolated System farther from where
the crop-mattress ends a space isolated in tremors i see i saw
in tremors on the see and saw which breaks equilibrium. that is
pre-condition number one when the woods breathe in isolation and
breathe out green made from a free tension, pure energy. to make
work in an isolated system several objects must create their own
heat and their own innate pressures in the tremors i see i saw.
from see to saw when balance strikes there’s no more work in
isolation. it can find its grave, remembers the species of
insects that fill the yard, its intrinsic flowers. let aerial
pressure pushes the piston’s life a little gentle further into
the cylinder into a thermal equilibrium a fine tremor then
registers as see moves to saw devoid of a pulsation plunging
into the invincible weight of an equilibrium there’s no work
left in melancholia anymore no breeze no tremor between see and
saw. Some would advice a change of place, of woods where the air
works moving into a