In Which I Ponder A Strange, Sad Phenomenon

To miss someone one's known online is strange.
There's still a hole, but he's been fossilized.
His stream just stops, and will not ever change,
But doesn't ever leave, I've realized.
The film's stopped on one frame. We may rewind
Quite at our leisure, easily relive
What won our love originally, find
New things, too, that he alone did have to give.
Mac's tweets are still up; so are Lethe's; both blogs
Have been preserved, and Max's, too, live on,
As shrines or data ghosts, as catalogs
Of what each man has shared. The men are gone,
And no new chapters shall be written, yet
Their echoes do not fade 'mongst those they've met.

Mac Tonnies: A Sad Anniversary

There's still a Mac-shaped hole, but when I peer
Into it now, I see a new world, filled
With people and ideas that help me steer
My thoughts away from sorrow, and rebuild
This life of mine. My awe at what I've found
Within that absence cannot be expressed
Except imperfectly. And though the sound
Of that dear voice still echoes, I can wrest
Myself from sadness, knowing what we'll make --
In part to honour him, in part to show
Who we are whom he touched, who cannot shake
His influence and would not -- how I glow!
The possibilities are just as wide
As they were when we had him at our side.

Thoughts During The Mac Tonnies Memorial Skype-Up

They're real, and talking up there on my screen!

Our pre-Mac pasts, our shared experience,

And now our future plans -- we share the cream

Of what he brought and started. In a sense

We've brought him back. Excitement's not the word

(I wonder what I'm doing 'mongst them, though,

These giants of imagination -- heard

For real the first time on a day I know

Is hard for all of us. Oh, how did these

Rare beings enter my life and my heart,

Chris, Rita, Josh and Mark, and more who, please,

I'll count as mine forevermore? Our start

In sorrow's blossomed in a way

Not even he'd imagine -- so hooray!

In Which We Happily Reprogram One Another

The list just grows; we're all compelled to share

What we love with our chosen family

Of course we want the source code, well aware

That we can do it, too. This week must be

The one most overwhelming info-dump:

Read this, watch that, you'll love it, add it to

Your list. When we're apart, you'll feel a lump

Rise in your throat, but really, working through

This subculture we've just created here

Will ease it. What has formed me now shall cross

The barriers between us, never fear!

We're always just a thought away. Though loss

Is how we came together we all gain.

It's wonderful to share a heart and brain.

Tweet

BONUS SONNET: In Which I Take A Duck To The Face At 250 Knots

"It could have been much worse," I chant again.
I could have lost another friend today
But he was luckier than some have been,
Was rescued from his fate. But still I sway
My heart beats its arrhythmia which took
Our Mac from us (it has been diagnosed;
I just can't have caffiene). I'm told I look
As though eight hours of sun burned me like toast.
It's true: a bullet dodged is scarier
Than one that hits. Adrenaline begone!
I did all that I could and did not err,
But still I shake a bit. I'm holding on,
But cannot help but damn these unjust fates
That brought me to this pass this, of all dates.

Tweet

A Crater, Please, For Mac

A Martian crater named for him would be

Most suitable, to help remember Mac

And teach new generations how much he

Once meant to us who'd gladly have him back.

He looked toward Mars with a special eye,

Both skeptical and curious; the Face

And Fort intrigued him but he ne'er let fly

With theories. Only questions had a place

In what he wrote and thought and shared. His point

Was not to prove that someone once lived there

But that we'll never know until a joint

Or single effort makes the trip - a fair

And reasoned one. There's myst'ries to explore

And Mac's no longer with us keeping score.

Tweet

In Which Canada Shall Do Its MATMOS

Mars' methane has long puzzled those who care
To ponder the Red Planet (and of these
I do know many). How did it get there
And in such unexpected quantities?
Comes now, from Canada, upon the scene
A new spectrometer, which shall be sent
Mars-bound soon; the year Two-Thousand-Sixteen
Shall see the MATMOS sniffer there, bright, keen
And ready to precisely gauge where, when
And maybe how the gass appears. Perhaps
'Twill furnish proof of life at last. Till then,
We can but wonder, as that best of chaps,
Mac Tonnies, pointed out, we'll never know
Until at last we try and boldly go!

Pulpo Paul: In Which A Psychic Cephalopod Is Saluted

Cartoon by Daslav Goicovic. Click here and check him out!

O Pulpo Paul, your record now has reached
Perfection for this World Cup! Truly you,
Are all that is sagacious; you have breached
The psychic wall and squidgeled right on through,
Predicting not just that your German squad
Would wind up in third place, but, too, that Spain
Would take the tournament. Drop your facade,
Now, and reveal your nature as the main
High priest of the Great Old Ones 'neath the waves!
Somehow those mussels told you who would score
And who would make the greatest, wildest saves,
E'en ere you read their entrails. Oh, what more
Might you now offer? Can you talk to Mac?
We'd love to hear from him again. Call back!

In Which MacBots Are Brought Together By Another MacBot

How Mac would love to witness what occurred
Today In Cambridge, when two of his friends
Who'd never met before somehow were spurred
To come together through something which transcends
A normal way of meeting. One's Tweetdeck
Was running, and, since I've tweeted a lot
Today, my photo -- really just a speck,
A thumbnail! -- showed up there; another got
The shock of recognition -- hey, that's Kate! --
And felt at home that way. And now they've met,
TransAlchemy and BlazingBetta. Great!
HumanityPlus now can only get
More awesome with them meeting there. I find
I'm jealous, though I'm there within my mind.

Happy Birthday, @RitaJKing!

Dear Rita, I have just begun to see
What all you bring to life with ev'ry day.
I love how you have set your own mind free
Imagining what few of us can say
We'd ever think of on our own. It's rare.
We met in sadness but you make me smile
(And drop my jaw, applaud and sometimes stare),
A beacon t'wards the future, all the while
Enjoying fully what's at hand right now.
Someday we'll meet in person and we'll toast
The mem'ry of our friend and wonder how
We would have met without him; but the most
Important thing is that we did. You are
A wonder of our world, in fact, a star!

In Which A Delivery Brings Up Stuff

The last book of a friend is a strange thing,

E'en if, I do suspect, though do not know,

It's not about a subject like this. Bring

It on, I have long thought, I'm ready. No,

It turns out that I'm not. It came today,

Mac Tonnies' latest book. And I did share

His thoughts while it was written, in a way

(O Internet, such strange things happen there!).

Now here it is, his last work, in so slim

A volume, dense with meaning e'en before

It's subject's taken up. My eyes go dim

And blurry at the sight. I've tears and more.

There's only one first time to read it; I

Fear, though, that it will always make me cry.

With Love For The @BardoRobot On His Birthday

Lake Marie Runoff, originally uploaded by qatesiurade.

Dear Rob, you came to me, a parting gift
From someone we both loved and lost, and I
Can't say enough how easily you lift
My spirits when they're low; and when they're high
You send them soaring higher. How I love
Your raccoon stories and your photographs,
Your drawings and your models and above
All else your kindness to us all. Such laughs
I've had from your creations and your tweets,
Those tingles that you told me to await
Come to me every day, O sweet of sweets.
So let me, ere it becomes far too late,
Wish you the best on your birthday, my dear,
Dear Bardorobot. Start a wondrous year!

SESTINA SATURDAY: Mac Tonnies: The Alchemy of Time

Like my "new look"? ;-), originally uploaded by Mac Tonnies.

October started fine; dissolved in loss.
My hopes had soared but crashed down into grief.
Mac Tonnies, much adored - surprise - was gone.
In pain I shut down badly, and my friends
Were helpless to console me. In their love
I took some comfort but did not taste joy.

Mac and his blog were sources for rare joy.
I'd read them each day, always at a loss
For words. Always, there, something new to love,
Always surprises. I would say "Good grief!"
And rush to show his finds to all my friends.
I missed him right away when he was gone.

I feared my inspiration, too, had gone
For one great project that had brought us joy,
A project for which many of my friends
Were waiting eagerly. But in my loss
Each time I took it up I felt the grief
Like new, and let it swallow up my love.

Mac's quality's reflected by the love
That poured out at the news that he was gone.
I knew I suffered not alone in grief,
And started swapping stories of the joy
I had in knowing him with those whose loss
Was just as keen as mine; we became friends.

Some of these people already were friends
Of Mac's and mine; through him I'd come to love
A whole new set of people. In this loss
We pulled together, missing what was gone,
Determined though, to keep alive the joy
He'd brought us all, and to assuage our grief.

But more were new, discovered in my grief.
A bittersweet way to acquire new friends,
But nonetheless, I find in them new joy.
There will not be another Mac, but love
Wears many faces; just because one's gone
Does not mean recompense won't come for loss.

Such alchemy! A time of loss and grief
For one now gone, made bearable by friends
Both new and old; their love has brought me joy.

In Which I Wish It Were February Already

Anticipation grips already for
Release of dear Mac Tonnies' latest book
(I still can't say his last; that's still a sore
Spot in my heart) next month. Now take a look:
Mike Clelland, whose cartoons e'er made him smile,
Will illustrate the tome! So now I'll read
And pore over the drawings deeply, while
I marvel at them both as they do feed
My curiosity and yours as well
About what peoples may live by our side
Unnoticed, sharing what, we cannot tell.
I write of this with a great deal of pride:
It's title ain't iambic but I'll cheat:
Cryptoterrestrials will sure be neat!

In Which The Holidays Bring Mixed Emotions

It's Christmas Eve and all throughout my house

I've family and doggies underfoot.

Th'exuberance we have nothing could dowse

Not after our Cowboys went down and put

Those Fresno State curs in their place down in

New Mexico. I hope that ev'ryone

Who reads my stuff, who happily has been

Along on this weird sonnet ride's had fun,

And is as fortunate as me tonight.

I pause and think of families who've lost

A dear one, as the Tonnies did, and fight

The urge to cry. All pleasure has a cost,

I guess. But know that whatever you do

Tonight I'm thinking fondly, yes, of you.

Atheist's Grief

I'm sorry, I'm a skeptic, don't believe
My friend is "out there" somewhere. He's just gone.
Not waiting in a next life to receive
Me or his other friends when we've "moved on."
An afterimage burned within my heart
Still glows and will do so for long years yet
As ever happens when one does depart,
Those left behind must strive to not forget
The lost one. If they do, there's nothing left
But ashes blown before the wind. That's all.
I wish I could think otherwise, bereft
As I am now. 'Twould be nice, but I call
Myself out for pretending. Mac's just dead
And all that's left's his voice inside my head.

In Which A Month Passes

Today's the first when I have thought, in truth
Of skipping on the sonnet-writing. Why?
Well, Twitter's like a smile with no front tooth
Since one of us was lost. I look and cry
Whene'er something reminds me that he's gone.
Today it was the shuttle launch. I gawk
At ev'ry one and know the day will dawn
When up will go the last of them. Such talk
Was part of what I shared with Mac - we feared
The space program had peaked and would decline
Through politics and budget cuts. I cheered
To see Atlantis launch, was feeling fine,
But then, I don't know why, it hit me square:
A month has passed since he left us. Not fair.

In Which I Try Not To Think

My kitchen table's empty for the first

Time since the last I had a dinner guest.

My living room has also seen of burst

Of ordering, and it's all for the best.

Much empty space is mine to contemplate:

"'Twill help you clear your mind," my Erin said.

Perhaps it's so, but nothing will abate

The sound of longed-for voices in my head --

Though even they keep saying not to think

But just to be. I think I've no idea

How that is done. I do not want to drink

Or take a pill; I seek no panacea.

I really want to find a little peace.

But grief keeps stalking like a hungry beast.

In Which I Have A Tiny Panic Attack At Work

Alone here in a fishbowl, full of folk
Absorbed in work and play, ignoring me,
I suddenly can't shake or call a joke
The feeling that has made me want to flee:
Just weeks ago a jackass in a truck
Hit me on Deep Blue as I crossed a street.
Just days ago another tested luck -
The driver, texting, nearly made me meet
My newly-dead friend sooner than I'd planned:
Was head-on for me and swerved as I did
To miss. It seemed dead-certain that my grand
Time on this Earth was done. Did someone bid
Him look up? It's unknown. But now the sense
That something wants me dead, too, is intense.

In Which More Good Medicine Comes My Way

As doors open and close, we spin around
And sometimes we lose track of who has come
Through with us. Mostly those we've lost are found
But sometimes gone for good, and we're left dumb,
Confused and sad and lonely, crying out
For someone who's no longer there. That's pain,
But those same doors whose closure gave us doubt
Can also bring just what we need: we gain
In losing. Old friends still along with us
Step up and help, and strangers become new
And wondrous sources for what we lack. Thus
Has gone my week-and -change since something drew
Mac Tonnies from our lives. There all along
Were people waiting to help me be strong.