In Which I Become Concerned That Norway May Fill With Giant Snails

Last night in Norway, in the Arctic sky

Was filmed and photographed phenomena

That's so far ill-explained. I'm glad that I

Am not alone in thinking about the

Great horror manga-movie as I look

At this and read the explanations for

A green light and a spiral. It just took

Mere seconds ere Kurouzu's fate and more

Did cross my mind. O, Higuchinsky, did

You and Junji Ito ever believe

That Uzumaki would, heaven forbid,

Turn out prophetic? Or should we conceive

That more mundane ideas should hold their sway?

A rocket stage, or laser-nerds at play?

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.

R.I.P., Mac Tonnies

Standing next to a fuse-box, originally uploaded by Mac Tonnies.

Mac Tonnies, how I longed one day to meet
And talk with you directly. I've admired
Your books and blog and links. Your ev'ry tweet
Brought strange new wonders. You knew you'd inspired
A lot of my big project. I'm so glad
I told you this and shared with you my plans
Which you refined and cheered on. Now, well, "sad"
Is quite inadequate. Among your fans
Your voice, it will be missed - by ev'ry one
Who wants to take enigmas with more than
A grain of salt and not make woo-woo fun
But really try improving the slight span
Of knowledge that we have of what's beyond.
I'm devastated, Mac, that you are gone.

In Which 2012 Hoaxers Have More To Answer For And A Clarion Call To Party Is Made

OR, I'm Not Crazy, I Just Want To Be Famous Before The Lizard People Get Me

I should not be surprised that Richard Heene
Believes 2012 will be the end
Of everything, and wanted some more screen
Time ere it all went down. But as my friend
The Astroengine says, be grateful for
Such nutters and the fodder they provide
For bloggers and for skeptics. I want more!
We've two years ere the epic and worldwide
And non-event takes place. Meanwhile we must
Put on our party-planning hats: 12/22
Of that fine year: Chichen Itza or bust!
When ev'ry skeptic who has any clue
Must gather, drink and dance and launch balloons.
I'll bring the sake. Ian, do the tunes?

In Which I Scoff Like A Nordic Atheist Would At These April Snowstorms

Three roosters have to crow in three locales:
Fjalar, Gullinkambi and the black,
Ere I start to believe those rationales
Which say that summer's never coming back.
Garmr's still chained and quiet in his pit,
And Jörmungandr's still wet and asleep!
Naglfar still is harbored and that shit,
Old Loki, still is chained up way down deep,
The serpent's venom burning up his face
When Sigyn pauses to clean up the mess.
No, there is still no cause for me to pace,
Though snow does stymie April's spring progress.
The three years' winter is not yet at hand;
No matter what the bards say 'round the land.

December 22, 2012

I must confess amusement at the fuss
Regarding one partic'lar future date:
December 21st in three years. Thus,
As near as I can follow this debate,
The world may end according to one crowd,
All time itself, according to a friend
In Saratoga (though she has allowed
That measurement of time is what might end,
All notions merging, globbing to just "now" --
Which I oft think is hap'ning anyway.
The internet has made it so). But how,
The skeptics 'mong us ask, is this the day?
The Mayans' reckoning is old and fine
But is a cycle's end such cause to whine?