Sunday, May 31, 2009

SONNET RANT: Well, That Certainly Showed US

I sighed to learn just earlier this May
From Pew Research that those who go church
And brag about their being saved will say
More than those who eschew it, that their search
For God and safety tells them it's all right
To torture those suspected of a plot
To terrorize. I sighed but was contrite
That I was not surprised. Now I'm distraught
To hear the latest news: A doctor who
Performed abortions met today his death
Outside his church. I'll say, I really have no clue
How murder, torture may in the same breath
Be called good deeds by those who say they seek
To follow one who blessed the sinning weak.

BONUS SONNET: A Sonnet Duet And Interview With Aurelio Montemayor

Sonneteer's note: I had so much fun interviewing Jeremy C. Shipp in sonnet-form that I decided to do it some more. My victim/partner today is education activist, Texan and Twitter poet Aurelio Montemayor. He plays faster and more looser with the language and the metrical constraints of sonnets than I do, but he's an old hand at this here poetry thing, while I'm a five-month n00b. Aurelio is also quite prolific and deliciously opinionated. His blog is at; his poetry on his Twitwall on Twitter, where you find him under the alias @aureliom

An education activist does what?
Excellent public schools for all I persue
Do you think education's in a rut?
Public will must give public schools their due
When you're not rabble rousing, what do you?
Books, films, crosswords, twitter, coffee and wine
And what to pick you up, when you are blue?
Meditation, silent sitting, a Buddhist-lite line
Aurelio, why sonnets, do you think?
Verse forms I avoided when young
How have we done so far; are we in sync?
We’re good doubles, trippingly on the tongue
What does the future hold for you, my dear?
Die ed advocating, sans loss of humor & poetical ear.

Saturday, May 30, 2009

SONNET REVIEW: Mat Johnson & Warren Pleece's INCOGNEGRO

My heart is breaking as I'm reading this,
Mat Johnson's tale of black passing as white
In rural Mississippi's raw abyss
Of racism, of murder and of spite.
Our hero, Zane, has made a pseudonym
Of naming names and calling crimes as crimes :
His skin is light and he's no fool. His grim
Crusade brings him right up against his times,
Confronting hate, betrayal, murder and
His own role as the Incognegro, which
He's proud to have until what he has planned
Goes off the rails when his friend gets the itch
To come along. I'd say this work compares
To Spiegelman's and Sacco's startling wares.

Friday, May 29, 2009

SONNET DUET: A Sonnet-Form Interview With The Lewis Carroll Of Horror Himself

Sonneteer's Note: What follows is a literary experiment that only the foolhardiest of fools like myself and novelist Jeremy C. Shipp would ever try. To learn more about my partner in sonnetation, check out his website at

O Jeremy, what drives you so to write?
O Kate, I live to write and write to live.
O Jeremy, what do you fear by night?
A ballerina clown who holds a shiv.
Vacation's strange; what does it mostly mean?
The systems of our world don’t honor life.
How relevant is it to today's scene?
The book itself, it spawned from modern strife.
O Jeremy, from what do your tales stem?
My horror and my love of this strange Earth.
O Jeremy, these gnomes, what's up with them?
My gnomic friends, they never lose their mirth.
So tell us now 'bout your new novel, Cursed.
The characters unite to fight the worst.

SONNET REVIEW: Jeremy C. Shipp's Vacation

A Lewis Carroll world is Jer'my Shipp's:
Its denizens are fiercer, though, and drag
Protagonists along on fearsome trips
Through their own minds and fears. Jeremy's bag
Of tricks is subtler than just monster tales.
A missing twin like dear old Phillip Dick's,
A revolution in the making, bales
Of unknown drugs and cultures, Meek and Tics
In endless war (the Third Word and the First)
Fog up this mirror world. Into this, toss
A hapless teacher, living out his worst
And dearest dreams at once. And while his loss
On this Vacation seems at first severe,
The affirmation he gains made me cheer.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

In Which I Consider A Bout of Furniture Shopping

The office in my house is where I'm at:
It's full of desks, typewriters, books and stuff,
Including my computer (fancy that!).
These days I'm finding, though, it's not enough.
I've recently come late to a new game:
Of pod'iobooks - recordings of new works
By authors who tweet with me, know my name,
And sometimes read my sonnets. Only jerks
Accept attention but don't give it. Shame!
To rectify this I there dipped my toe,
And Rossi, Sigler, Lafferty and more
Grabbed onto it and pulled me down below,
And carried me far from the peaceful shore.
I'm happy there to swim, but now I find
My office chair is numbing my behind.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

In Which A Wiretap Reveals That Roland Burris Was A Vogon All Along!

Today, through wire taps we have unmasked
A fake Dentrassi, who was caught on tape
Maneuvering to save his own sweet -- asked
Repeatedly before, he did escape
The question of his giving quid pro quo
With clever talk -- but now we all may hear
Him whining to the brother of Blago:
His business threatens failure, he has fear
Of going under. Vogon to Vogon,
Does Roland Burris promise to provide
Support for Blago's campaign to stay on
As Prostnic. Before they both denied
That this was how Roland got to D.C.
But this sure sounds like pay to play to me.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Sonnet Rant: I Am Somewhat Disappointed In The Great State Of California This Afternoon

It's possible that I was in denial.
I thought for sure that Proposition 8
Would soon be headed for that growing file
Of stupid laws we laugh at and berate
Our ancestors for having on their books:
Like banning public bowling, or the play
of dominoes on Sunday, but it looks
As though in California, if you're gay,
You'd better have already tied the knot
With your sweetheart. And if you've yet to find
The right one, plan to elope to Vermont.
They used to say that Iowa's behind
The times, but now the Golden State would seem
To have gone back to the first age of steam.

Monday, May 25, 2009

BONUS SONNET: In Which I Wish Milton Mermikides Many Happy Returns Of The Day

O had I only known back in the day
When I dwelt near the Attitude Gauntlet
Of Berklee College, that amongst the fray
Was such a guy as Milton! I regret
That I missed my chance back then for to meet
This person I admire now. Glad I am
At least that I can in this manner greet
Him on his birthday. But now, can I cram
Encomium enough in what I've left
Within this sonnet? Milton's music brings
Out patterns from what we would miss, bereft
Of his keen ear to notice them - such things
As bloodwork data, evolution, and
The brain's own rhythms -- such is his command.

In Which I Sass Just How Hoopy Those Froods Out There Really Are

I love the internet's weird holidays:
On May the Fourth (be with you), we just had
Star Wars Day; now our bittersweet, fun craze
Is Towel Day. It makes me rather sad
That Douglas Adams isn't 'round to see
How much we miss him, and gladly display
Our towels just to honor him. Would he
Be pleased to see the Kindle? I think so.
It's extra fun to read his stuff on mine
("Don't Panic" says my cover. Yes I know
It's obvious and silly, but I'm fine
With being both). O Douglas! Let us raise
A Pan-Galactic 'Blaster in his praise!

Sunday, May 24, 2009

BONUS SONNET: In Which I Realize That Balticon Is A Bit Of A Misnomer

I spent this weekend, nose against the glass
(Entirely in a sad, virt'ual way)
As folks from far and near converged en masse
On Baltimore to pass the time of day
With Charles Stross and others I admire.
O Balticon! I'd love so to be there.
The internet permits me to inquire
As to the doings, who and what and where
The action is. I'm somewhat puzzled, though.
The folks I know keep sending photographs
Of mostly-bacon BLTs. I know
They're taking these in quest of some cheap laughs.
I'm laughing, too, but mostly at my game.
Won't Bacon-Con be a much better name?

SONNET DARE: In Which I Contemplate Another Poetic Form

A sonnet is not easy to dash off,
But there are harder forms to use out there.
The double-dactyl's one to make me cough:
A short and tight form, strict beyond compare.
A dactyl is a foot I cannot use
In sonnets: one stressed then two unstressed bits.
A double-dactyl stacks these up. The muse
Demands two stanzas of these; oh my wits
Are stressed to think of one foot and to write
The other! And the strictness ends not there.
A double-dactyl word must come to light
In stanza two! Oh how I'd tear my hair!
I tend most days to play it fast and loose
With iambs. Surely I would slip the noose.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Selenochlamys ysbryda - Haunting Gardens Near You (If You Live In Britain, That Is)

Poor earthworms; it just isn't bad enough
That you get drowned, run over, et by birds.
Now comes a ghost slug to make your lives rough.
But honestly, this slug's too cool for words.
It's white and blind, with sharp teeth and a taste
For slurping earthworms "like spaghetti." Night
Is when it hunts beneath the soil. Displaced
It may well be from cave life, far from light.
Nor is it native to where it's been found,
The Cardiff region of Britain and Wales.
It's alien, near Cardiff! That's the sound
Of some rum Torchwood pitch, which never fails.
Imagine Gwen and silly Captain Jack
Defending earthworms from the slug's attack!

Friday, May 22, 2009

BONUS SONNET: Epic Party Fail, Yet We Saved It

I started out my Friday eve'ning with
High hopes that summer of '09 would start
With one great smashing party, but a pith
To my poor fragile ego and my heart
Occurred on my arrival. Look! My ex,
For whom I real'ize I still bear a torch
Is here with his young wife! Oh so complex
Is my reaction. I hide on the porch,
E'en ere the rain and hail starts to occur.
I break, too, my resolve now to abstain
From liquor. Oh, it's fine; I have met her
And seen him before now. Yet there is pain.
But weather drove the sissies home to hide
And I stayed with my good friends. I abide!

Celebrate Memorial Day By Watching The History Channel... Hype A Lemur-Monkey?

At last my plans for this weekend are made!
Forget the troops who died to keep us free.
Forget the barbecues in sun and shade.
The most important date IN HISTORY
Is Monday, when the Hist'ry Channel airs
Its lemur-monkey-Ida-fossil show -
Or so the pre-hype for "The Link" declares.
It takes chutzpah to make that claim, I know.
But hype is what this fossil's all about.
Carl Zimmer made the apt comparison
'Tween Ida hype and that for films not out:
Publicity inflates what critics shun.
But just in case don't let the critics view
The product ere the public; that won't do!

Thursday, May 21, 2009

In Case You're Wondering, I Don't Support The Death Penalty Either, But That's A Matter For Another Sonnet

I don't care who you are or what you've done,
You don't deserve a simulated death,
A thumbscrew, rack or shock. I am not one
Who cries for blood like some Lady MacBeth;
I'd rather not be screaming at a spot
On hands or conscience. Hurt me and I'll take
The right to hurt you back but I will not
Do so when you're tied down, or to a stake.
You'll stand and face me equally, and if
I can't even the odds myself I'll use
The justice system, slow but sure and stiff.
You get your say, I mine, but I refuse
To act like you, nor would I e'er respect
Such being done on my behalf unchecked.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

If Ida Known She Was Harmless, Ida Fossilized Her Myself!

Of Darwin's posse, I count myself one.
So I am pleased that our new missing link
A fossil we call Ida, just for fun,
Might bear his name if we all stay in sync.
Darwinius cries out sometime to be
A genus. Per Carl Zimmer, there's debate
Among taxonomists if something we
Have only named online can really rate
As nomenclature in the lit'rature.
I'm also much amused that certain folk
Are up in arms and newly insecure;
That this dead primate-lemur can provoke
A new round of bad monkey's uncle japes.
We're made out of spare ribs, not out of apes!

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

BONUS SONNET: In Which I Tsk A Slightly Neglected Friend About A Friend She May Be Neglecting

Oh Erin dear, if you are reading this,
You need to call your dear Gerry Kissell.
He's got some plans I'm sure you'd hate to miss,
And I would like to know of them as well.
I friended him on Facebook on a whim,
As I've been thinking of the things he does
Of which you've told me often. To meet him
I'd like to do someday for real. It was
His birthday also, on this very day!
So take that step and call Blade Runner Boy.
That's all for now I really have to say,
Except I miss you and I wish you joy.
Your busy summer season's starting soon.
And I won't get to Togie till mid-June.

In Which I Teeter Drunkenly From Lilac Intoxication

The DEA might confiscate my yard:
It's one great mass of heady blossoms there.
My tendency to sniff just might retard
My reason and mien. I am aware
That it is best that I not operate
Machinery, or speak in public while
I'm in this deeply interesting state --
As demonstrated over on this file.
I'm not a grammar Nazi, but I am
Quite mindful of those usage niceties,
Agreement, case -- oh yes, I give a damn.
And pay attention to apostrophies.
But lilacs and some other blossoms, too
May make me start to use "whom" 'stead of "who!"

BONUS BONUS SONNET: Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Meus Equus Parvus

Miss Ribken, O my wise and gentle friend,
Who was so kind this morning as to share,
This madness, Horsey Planet, to no end
But generosity! T'was most unfair
Of me to repay such as such I did.
My tweeting fingers sometimes, on their own
Share naughtiness from deep within my id,
Which id loves now and then to hear a groan
Of anguish at a pun or inside joke.
I hope Brent Weichsel's mash-up was a cure
For earworm torment. I know I provoke
A further dose of wrath, in fact I'm sure,
By naming here the song for readers: it's
"My Little Pony." May it cause no fits.

BONUS SONNET: In Which I Share My Awe At A Student Filmmaker

The other day, while I was geeking out
On Herschel/Planck's launch, and on Atlantis'
Fine work on Hubble, also did I shout
My love of Henry Purcell and of bits
Of choral, churchy music that he wrote.
Conflated in my mind at once were these.
I said so, then I casually did float
The notion that a mash of them would please.
Brent Weichsel, budding auteur, took the dare,
And tossed off this as quick as kiss-my-hand.
You might well profit from his other fare.
His latest, Battle Not is soon to land
Upon his site and elsewhere. I am sure
His name and work won't too long be obscure.

Monday, May 18, 2009

In Which I Rejoice At Breathing Hard (And Tell You All To Get Your Minds Out Of The Gutter Right Now)

It's spring at last and time to ride my bike,
Deep Blue, to work whene'er I safely may.
The exercise is good but what I like
Is what I smell; a moving sweet bouquet.
It starts with lilacs in my own back yard,
In Cahill Park, and scattered all along
My route. Then others join, but they are hard
For me to name. A cherry? That seems wrong;
This is Wyoming. Dogwood? Maybe so.
The blooms are red and white and have a scent
That makes me glad to huff and puff e'n though
It's extra work to use my nose. Content
I am to pedal on, and deeply to inhale.
And love the Greenway's deeply scented trail.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Hardware Wars: Or The Most Famous Stripped Bolt In History

I couldn't help but picture, just today,
My own dear Dad and what he would have done
Had he encountered the sort of delay
Mikes Massimo and Good did, namely one
Stripped, stubborn bolt that held a rail in place
That blocked up Hubble's STIS door.
Massimo tried three tools, then, though in space,
Employed my Dad's best strategy: no more
Nor less than yanking the rail off. And yet,
With thousands tuned in, including the boss
The verbal aspect was subdued I'll bet.
No air to turn blue anyway. The loss
Of time compounded more so when
A power tool lost power. There I've been.

BONUS SONNET: In Which I Try To Win A Poster For Duncan Jones' MOON Movie

I do declare: the geekiest of things
On my agenda's writing sonnets on
Assorted geekeries. The joy this brings
Is glorious. I haven't yet withdrawn
From any challenge: write on Battlestar
Galactica with Peanuts characters?
On watching telescope repair afar?
On building Magic decks and how this stirs
Imagination more than playing does?
On taking Mom and Dad to see Star Trek
And what a great experience it was?
To these and more I have said what the heck,
Poured out my love in merely fourteen lines.
And in this task all that I love combines.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

In Which I Eschew Eurovision In Favor Of Something Much Geekier

Content with Milton Mermikides' tweets
(There's lots to be content with; that guy knows
Of what he types), and at work, which defeats
All thought of tuning in to catch all those
Weird wannabes do Eurovision, I
Don't try. At any rate, my work PC
Is soundless. Words can't tell of how much my
Heart breaks at this. Instead I chose to see
Day Two of the spacewalk repair work on
The Hubble ACS. That's soundless, too
But fascinating on its own. Forgone
Is the conclusion that I'd rather do
My long-range gawking at some men in space
Than at what seems a musical disgrace.

Friday, May 15, 2009

In Which I Am Flabbergasted Anew At What The Internet Lets Me Do

For me it's just an ordinary day,
My office is unchanged as is my job.
But tech has let me watch as, far away
Two guys did work that still can make me sob.
Mikes Good and Massimo went for a walk
To tweak equipment and change batteries.
I watched them though I couldn't hear them talk.
Now, I'm not just a stalker - I mean please!
The walk was out in space; as for the work
The Hubble Telescope, as job sites go
Makes any job a wonder many'd lurk
To watch in real time. It's amazing. Lo:
The internet allowed me to sit back
And while they worked, just casually keep track.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

In Which I Become The Pie Monster For A Certain Someone's Benefit

While they were here, I took my Mom and Dad
To lunch in Cheyenne at a special joint.
Needless to say, our lunch was so not bad
That it was fab - but that is not my point.
I got a dare from Ommus once again
To sonnetize The Pie Lady this time
(That's where we lunched and where I found within
A Pie Monster). Now, yesterday my prime
Preoccupation was with Star Trek, but,
He's not so big on deadlines, Ommus, so
Today, a quiet day, I choose to strut
My sonnet stuff on him once more. I know
A sonnet is a strange place for trash talk,
But om nom nom, I'm eating. Take a walk.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

The Parent Trek

It's no surprise that Mom wanted to see
The Star Trek flick, but what to do with Dad?
We thought that Earth would do, but wow! Then he
Said no he'd go to Trek with us. He's had
Experience with outer space movies:
He took us to see Star Wars after all
(Ne'er mind that that was in the 70s!).
And so we went, all three, and had a ball.
"A good light show," was Dad's review, while Mom,
Quipped "they sure hid that well" 'bout Mr. Spock
And (spoiler zapped; we'll just defuse that bomb).
While I am still recov'ring from the shock:
Shizuma Drives and Ultranauts, last time
I checked were not canon, but that's no crime.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Painting The Well House Red

My new house has an outbuilding of sorts,
A purely ornamental one, that is.
My father's on a visit and resorts
To home improvement projects here for his
Amusement since I still do not subscribe
To satellite or to cable TV.
To these two facts one eas'ly may ascribe
Our pastime for the day, which chanced to be
To paint the fake well house that's on my lawn!
I've often wondered as I look at it
What was the thought process that chanced to spawn
The thing. "What this yard needs to be legit
Is a fake well house right there, in the grass,
So mowing round it's a pain in the ass."

Monday, May 11, 2009

Yes, Yes, I Am Both A Hubble-Hugger And A Shuttle Shill

Mollosid-free, Atlantis is aloft!
Because of this, space-junkies still may hope
For more of the eye-candy that, so oft
We've gotten from the Hubble telescope,
We'd cry out foul were our supply to stop.
But more than pretty pictures come from there;
Through Hubble we have peered far back in time
As far as 13 billion years, to where
(And when) it all began. She's past her prime
Our Hubble, but once this trip's complete
She'll show us even more, at wavelengths we
Have never seen. It will be no mean feat
To upgrade it. "More like brain surgery"
Than a construction job, we're told. And this
In weightless space! May nothing go amiss!

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Happy Mother's Day - Geek Love Edition, OR Why I Haven't Seen Star Trek Yet

She taught me how to use objective case,
And what a linotype machine was for.
She handled with most admirable grace
When betimes, as she vacuumed the floor
A shotgun shell blew up in the machine.
Likewise when village small fry mistook her
For Grandmother ( her grey hair, from a gene
She shared with me, came early, as it were).
She taught me young to love the ancient Greeks
And stars and sci-fi, gin and Chinese food.
No wonder I count us among the geeks.
All this while married to a cop. But, dude!
E'en so I must love this gal quite a lot.
I'm waiting to see Trek with her, distraught!

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Happy Mother's Day -- IN THE WILD!

The insect world has wonders quite beyond
The critters' mere capacity to to make
A person scream or swat or drain a pond
(Their pow'r is real and mighty, no mistake.
Just think of what they make you do outdoors
Or in the kitchen when they land on food).
This video shows how a wasp mom's chores
Get farmed out to a caterpillar. Crude?
Not one bit! Cunning rather is her way:
She lays the eggs inside their squirming meal,
They grow until it's time to chew this prey
Wide open and emerge; then, still at heel
The 'pillar helps them nest and incubate
And guards them like the army guards the state!

Friday, May 8, 2009

In Which I Rant Not A Little About Wildfires And A Six-Legged Cause Thereof, Even Though I Dig Insects As A Whole

I feel for Santa Barb'ra as the fire,
It edges closer with the worst intent
(If fire may have intent, this one's is dire).
Someday that will be me and mine. Ill-spent
Has been the time and resources to fight
Dendroctonus - the pine beetle, whose spread
Across the Med Bow Forest came to light
When I was just a sprat. Now trees are dead
And ready to catch fire, and when they do
Encampment and my Saratoga both,
Baggs too and all the little spots are through.
The timber industry, whose normal growth
And work could have prevented this outcome
Were killed off long before. It's beyond dumb.

BONUS SONNET: BSG "The Final Cut" Performed By Beloved Comic Strip Characters

A mike in hand, Miss Peppermint Patty,
Invades Charlie Brown's space at ev'ry turn,
Accusing him and his of things that he
Cannot deny while Marcy's cam'ras churn.
Meanwhile poor Lucy languishes in jail,
And Sally Brown and Linus have a fight.
Seems Linus found grafitti; Sally's pale
While Snoopy snickers at them both. In spite
Of image issues, Schroeder and a girl
(Red-haired and Little) dance around in towels.
And what of Pigpen? Why does Patty hurl
Each time he tries to show her what he's found?
A proper hatchet job is done indeed
And Cylon Patty stays true to her breed.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

In Which I Am Bowled Over By A Multimedia Webcomic Featuring A Guy With A Bra On His Head

One day post-migraine and I've just blown out
My brain on a web comic (and a flick
But Wolverine's not what I'm all about
This afternoon) that tripped me out so quick
I read the whole thing in one sitting, well,
The whole thing that is posted thus far. I'll
Need rehab to get past NAWLZ and - oh hell! 
Prepare yourself for weirdness nonpareil;
A multimedia bludgeon there awaits.
Thought-casting, mad bionics, trip and trance,
Internal serotonin taps, hot dates
With triple-G bras and with cars that dance
(Or stomp at least). The future here is weird;
Exactly what the likes of Falwell feared.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Some Lines As I Prepare To Be Stupified By Marvel Studios' Latest Despite Its Weak Reviews

While I love comics, I'm no major fan
Of superheroes and their backstories.
Though I quite liked the Neil Gamain Batman -
That oeuvre is from DC's inventories
And Marvel's on my mind as I prepare
To take in Wolverine after my run
To Heroes Only for my fix. Aware
I am that this means I'll have much less fun
Than those who've dwelt on every small detail
Of Logan's life and loves and hates and foes.
In truth, my baser motives here prevail:
Hugh Jackman and our economic woes
Draw me. I learn in Gross's Dumb Money
That Marvel Studios shares blame. Funny!

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

In Which I Feel My Car's Pain More Than It Does

If this had been a stress-test, I'd have failed.
I'd have to issue CAP securities
To Geithner and his bunch. But I've curtailed
Attempts to understand that stuff. Oh please -
We all have anyway. Let's talk 'bout my
Own stresses. While my car came out okay
(A dirty air flow sensor, cleaned now by
The guys at Logan Ave's repair bay. Hey -
It didn't need replaced, just cleaned is all!),
I spent the morning watching jagged lights
Across my vision, hearing... I could call
It piercing, this whine, but that term just slights
The sounds tormenting me, though just describes
A migraine's pain. Too many diatribes?

Monday, May 4, 2009

In Which I Add To My Pantheon Of Heroes

It's waterproof, so it seemed rather wise
To wear the jacket I put on to ride
Deep Blue to work. But there was a surprise
Not caused by weather: There did slip outside
Its shoddy pocket some important stuff.
My paper brain, FIELD NOTES, it slipped out first;
My cell phone further on, and things looked rough.
But Howard Scotland, saw my book, reversed,
(He cycles, too) and picked it up. I'd grown
Already used to its loss, e'en resigned.
But Howard e- then snail mailed. Then my phone
Was Robert McIntosh's random find.
That things I value fell into such hands
Was good luck beyond reas'nable demands!

Sunday, May 3, 2009

BONUS SONNET: In Which I Scream Like Kirk At Khan After Checking The Schedule At Work

I was to take my Jack to Logan Ave
Tomorrow before I headed to work.
I'd hoped perhaps they'd fix him and I'd have
Him back by shift's end. Lo the fates did smirk.
We've changed things up, as far as schedules go.
My shift now starts at six-thirty a.m.
The change was next week, I had thought, but no!
Tomorrow is the day. I cannot stem
The tide of screams my muscles now emit,
As, knowing that Deep Blue is my recourse,
And that all winter I got not a whit
Of exercise and that now, by main force
No matter what the weather, we shall ride
To work and back before we've really tried.

I For One Welcome Our New Higgs-Boson Overlords

The Large Hadron Collider's almost fixed!
The last large dipole magnet is installed!
You'll all recall its start-up, somewhat nixed
When pressure testing broke a strut and stalled
The smashing schedule for a bit on this,
The biggest scientific instrument
We've ever built. Now some of you will hiss
And talk again of world's end, discontent
That black-hole blather didn't shut it down
The first time. It's unlikely that will be
What happens when we start this smasher up.
More likely that a soda made of pee
Will beat out Coke and Pepsi. Try a cup!
Higgs-Boson, if extant, though will appear
And mayhap make the world seem much less queer.

Saturday, May 2, 2009

BONUS SONNET: In Which I Fret Over My Gas Guzzling Pal

Alongside Deep Blue in my heart is Jack,
Booktastic Buick Skylark, and the means
For my commute most of the year. He's black
With red inside and sleek, like most machines
About which poems are written. Yesternoon 
Upon the summit where the fog did spread
My Jack got thirsty. Though we'd be home soon
I'm told his type is best not run to red,
So (secret) Trading Post got it some trade.
But from the way my Jack's behaving now
I'm thinking that the gas was lower grade
Than is quite right. He's sluggish as a cow
At lower speeds, though he can still go fast.
We barely made it home tonight. Damnblast!

Sonnet Rant: Invasive Species And Their Careless Carriers

Swine Flu is not the only thing that's spread
By careless people doing careless things.
Five hundred thousand bats, we learn, are dead
From white-nose fungus. Silent are their wings,
And closed now are the caves from which they flew.
Meanwhile a pamphlet's making all the rounds
To lecture boaters never to pooh-pooh
That zebra and the quagga mussels' bounds
Will keep expanding, grow from lake to lake,
Its larvae hitching rides in boaters' tanks.
The fungus, too, may come in people's wake
As they tour caves around the country. Thanks.
Free Comic Book Day was my topic 'til
I read this news. And now I've gone all shrill.

Friday, May 1, 2009

For Susan Marich, On Her Mumbleth Birthday

моя сузитчка*, Happy Birthday, my
Sweet friend, now twice as old as she appears!
Don't let her grave face fool you: from her eye
More twinkles have danced forth over the years
Than folks have gone to sleep beneath her hands.
A teacher and masseuse, yes, she is both --
And more besides: a hunter who demands
Attention to the ecosystem's growth,
A fancier of insects, singing, wine,
Of stargazing and raising kids (and hell!).
Her presence at a fete means that a fine
Time will be had by all and I can tell
No more. This sonnet's going to make her blush,
Then giggle hard and tell me "Oh, you hush!"

*моя сузитчка = My little Susan