In Which A Dragon Saves A Maiden

My elbows both engaged in mutiny,
From overuse of these computers, I
Must now resort to something new to me:
Some software that makes what I say to my
Machine, here, into typing. As I've said,
As many others have repeated, this,
Life in the future, rocks. From out my head
And through my voice, onto the page! I miss,
Sometimes, the errors that do creep into
The text this way, but editing is smart.
It's passing strange though, that I say "undo"
Instead of hitting backspace. How my heart
Is gladdened: now no longer is there pain
In pouring out what's in my heart and brain.

In Which I Ponder The Future Of This Blog

Photo of me writing a sonnet in a movie line by Sarah Multiverse

Two years of sonnetizing; I shall reach
A thousand ere the year is done. Is that
Enough? Has this grown stale? Do I not leach
Some value with high quantities? I'm at
A point where 'tis an automatic thing
To write a sonnet. People photograph
Me doing so quite on the fly; I fling
Them forth in movie lines, just for a laugh
Or sometimes scribble them out over drinks.
In truth it's become something of a stunt,
And other pastures beckon now, methinks.
So: shall I follow where I'm led, or, blunt
And hack-like, cling to this well-mastered form?
Tell me, dear readers, d'you prefer the norm?

Datuk Barata...

Because what's sought at first's a bureaucrat
Whene'er first contact's made, we've had a gap
In need of closing. Worry not! For that
August and needful body (shut your yap;
They have their uses) in New York we call
United Nations hath now chosen one
Datuk Professor Mazlan Othman (all
A Datuk is, is one her king has done
The honor of so naming; chivalry
Is still there in Malaysia) for to serve
As all our spokesdame. I am sure that she
Will do just fine, as long as she's the nerve
To wait while xenolinguists try to fish
Some sense out of some unknown gibberish.

Sonnet Dare: For @RitaJKing: In Which I Ponder Loveland

"Inchvesting" is a most unusual term,
But 'tis a far from ordinary age,
As Rita tells us, and I must affirm
What she imagines jumps up off the page
And, maybe, soon will change our world and stop
Th'entropy that's making of Detroit
An urban ghost town. Yet there's hope: a crop
Of dreamers dare, with notions most adroit
And open-ended, to seek out a way
(Or many, really) to re-use the space
That industry's abandoned. Who's to say
That they will not succeed? And in their place
Could you do better? Well, here's your big chance:
A dollar buys an inch of land. Advance!

In Which I Bid Facebook A Not-So-Fond Farewell

This has been coming for a long time now.
One straw always looks innocent and light
Until one bows 'neath many. I'll allow
I bore more than I should have; I'll not fight
With anyone o'er what it finally took.
The ratio of benefit against
Annoyance long has caused me, yes, to look
Askance at Facebook; I for long have sensed
Someday I'd leave it for good reason. Schemes
With "features" that just mock my privacy
And open up abuses despots' dreams
Could barely outline, all add up to be
Not worth it to play chess or simply chat.
There's other places where I can do that.

SESTINA SATURDAY: In Which I Try To Answer @IsoBan's Question

So far as we know well, we've just one life
Apiece, and while there's room for lots of change,
And impetus for more out in the stars,
We're somewhat governed, still, by what our past
Has made of us. That's not to say a plan
Cannot be radical; just takes resolve.

Excited as I am by your resolve
(It's something I have shared), I think your life
May have a shape unlike that which you plan
In thinking once again of school. A change
Is good but not for its own sake. Your past
Mayhap has shown your own path to the stars.

We want to take our people to the stars
In one form or another. We resolve
A future for our species, though its past
Persuades some it's unworthy. Still, for life
As Earth has made it to go on and change
Beyond the Sun's lifespan, we need a plan.

As Constellation was quite a flawed plan,
But was the one we had beneath these stars,
And hasn't been replaced so much by change
As for some place-held promises, resolve
To keep to NASA's mission's threatened. Life
Demands that we who want more, shed the past.

But much of who we are comes from that past,
Our talents and our strengths -- surely our plan
Must needs incorporate these; one's whole life
Informs one's mission, whether to the stars
Or to a city park as ash. Resolve
With me to stay true to this through this change.

Is what you do now not of value? Change
Perhaps its focus, but respect your past,
What you have done and longed for. Your resolve
Will stay strong if you honor that. I plan
As you do, too, to redirect; the stars
Call to us with a strength beyond mere life.

But know as life calls on you now to change
And chase the stars directly, that your past,
Your friends, support your plan and your resolve.

Sestinator's note: To hear the other end of this conversation, check out this AudioBoo of my friend Chris Butler's (aka @IsoBan).

In Which I Ponder The Next Big One

As long as just one planet is our home,

Our legacy is hostage to its whims.

We've changed a lot, change still more as we roam

It surface. But lo, how our prospect dims.

We burn on through the fuel that's easiest

To use to go beyond this atmosphere,

This gravity, and with it burn our best,

Perhaps our final hope of leaving here

As we are now, bipeds with hair and hands

And hearts of flesh. Will only memes escape?

Some fragile proof that we were more than bands

Of a tool-using, hooting, talking ape?

Today an earthquake shook our world anew

And we went surfing on the waves it threw.

February 1: A Death Knell Or A Clarion Call?

On paper it so often sounds so good:
Dismantle something big, unwieldy and,
Refocus it to do just what it should,
No more. Let others take what's out of hand
And run with it. As smaller, nimbler beasts,
Adaptable and flexible they'll make
A better show of what always defeats
The lummox. But each one has less at stake
And less to work with than the big one did,
And must, like buzzards, fight over the corpse.
Now, sure, this keeps them lean and hungry, kid,
But all that competition sometimes warps
The progress towards the goal we once all had.
So I can't help it; this day still is sad.

Possible supporting quote passed on by Phil Plait, the Bad Astronomer: "Quote of the day from space telecon: "If you create a beast so large all you can do is feed it, you've done a disservice. "

In Which I Try Not To Fret Over The Constellation Program's Fate

I'm trying hard today not to lose heart,
As rumors fly: a big dream's for the axe
Within the fed'ral budget. Many smart
And plugged-in people say, though, to relax.
The Constellation program's under threat
But it's an empty one, for Congress won't
Choke off that NASA money, not just yet,
That goes into so many districts. Don't
Believe that I'll be sanguine, knowing same,
Although venality's a sure, sure thing
On which to bet. I just think that it's lame
Just as we've found there's water there, we swing
Back to debating what the moon is worth.
Do babies e'er debate the cons of birth?

In Which I Prepare To Gawk Again At The International Space Station

A flyover so high and bright, fast too,

Our space station, our biggest satellite

Will cross the sky quite soon, 'gainst the deep blue.

I'll go outside and watch once more tonight.

The day I find this dull, just pack me off --

A rest home or a mental ward, no care

As to which one is mine. Just wink and cough

And let the men in clean white coats just bear

Me right away. We've people in the sky,

Experiments ongoing in a grand

Attempt to back up -- and we have to try --

Our biosphere. How could anyone stand

With all that glory passing overhead

And not be moved? My tears I freely shed.

In Which I Ponder Urban Fossils

Our Greenway is a long path of concrete

That winds all through Cheyenne, though it's not whole

As yet; it's discontinuous. Complete,

It will let bikers and the sorts who stroll

To travel all around, no care for cars

Except at a few crossings. Ere that day

More cement must be poured, must set for hours

And opportunities galore will lay

In wait for leaving traces, casts and tracks

Such as I saw out there this afternoon.

Bike tire trails, paw prints, outlines and cracks

All testify to what landed too soon

In that congealing muck before it cured.

They'll know of us in future; that's assured.

In Which We Are Greatly Pleased

Comes now the news: the LCROSS probe has found

Some water where we'd long hoped it would be.

In Crater Cabeus on Luna, 'round

The Moon's south pole. This means a lot to me

For reasons that soon all will understand

(Though it means some slight rewrites must be done!)!

To have a source of water near at hand

Bodes well for future colonization

And making of the Moon a right foothold

For future space development. This here

Is just the kind of news that cheers my old

And sci-fi loving heart. I hold too dear

The hope that someday mankind will explore

And learn about the universe next door.

In Which Mac Tonnies Takes A Turn In The Birthday Barrel

Mac Tonnies makes the internet more strange

Than it already is. That's quite a feat!

But he's an eye for signs of hoped-for change,

For beautiful decay, for all that's neat.

A diff'rent kind of skeptic, too, is he,

Who stresses what we don't know but could find

Were we but to try looking. When I see

The world through Tonnies' glasses I'm entwined

In future's promise, good and bad. Today,

His birthday, also is H.P. Lovecraft's!

And we can make of that whate'er we may.

Coincidence, I'll say - yet how I laughed

On learning that. So happy birthday, Mac.

How's that new book a-comin'? Don't you slack!

I Love Living In The Future...Most Of The Time

The batteries, they all need to be charged
On many of the things I use each day.
I won't complain; my life is much enlarged
By laptops, cell phones, and my Kindle. They
Have let me do my thing 'most anywhere.
But ne'er before was there a pefect storm
Of power loss as right now. It's not fair!
My work PC, I regret to inform,
Restricts my freedom while my laptop sleeps.
My phone at home, an cool old candlestick
Works all the time; my cellie not so much.
As for my Kindle, right now it's a brick.
It lasts a week on one charge but, as such,
One has to charge it sometimes. I'm so glad
I bought a back-up dead tree book. Not bad!

Curses! It's Pledge Drive Time

I have a tote and vest and hat; all prove

That I'm a sucker for that time each fall

When all the voices that I'm hearing move

From giving news and info, to a call

For listeners to pony up and pay. 

There are two stations that get my support,

Since both of them get tuned in through my day.

I do rely on them; what they report

Is often inspiration for my rhymes,

And how I start and end my waking hours.

I pay my way, but still suffer, these times,

A guilt that it is quite beyond my powers

To assuage. Oh damn you, spring pledge drive!

Of course I want your stations to survive!

I Do Not Beat My Mom, But I Don't Turn Down Her Offers Of Assistance Either

Like Coraline, I found a secret drawer
While starting to pack up my kitchen gear.
I have a turkey lacing kit? What's more,
A blender part and more spoons did appear!
Oh, moving house is ever so much fun,
Especially when one works by oneself.
In candour I've become nearly undone,
Since ne'er did I find magic packing elf.
So to my rescue came my own dear Mom
To help me keep on track and pack more smart.
Alas, before one hour had passed her palm
And face and knee and pride, but not her heart
Were torn and bleeding. Yes, she took a spill
On ice and asphalt. Yet she helps me still!

The Feast Day of the Patron Saint of Beekeepers, With An Excursis On Colony Collapse And A Possible Cause Thereof

I must admit I fail to comprehend
What's up with all the fuss and flow'rs and hearts
When hives and screened-in hats would better send
The message as we celebrate the arts
Of apiculture. Honey, it's the day
To laud the work of those who keep the bees,
Much harder work these days, to our dismay.
It could be an endemic bee disease,
It could just be some mites or pathogens,
We still don't know where blame is to be put
For colony collapse that leaves these dens
Bereft of bees. A mystery's afoot!
But I submit: perhaps it's Valentine
The saint of plagues and keepers, who's malign.

In Defense of Social Networking Sites

I know some people love to brag about
Deleting a Facebook or MySpace page.
And print and broadcast pundits boasting clout
Just love to act bewildered that the age
Of Twitter has arisen. We're all dupes
Or followers of some pied piper's song,
Fashion victims, or just simply snoops.
The fact that we're ungodly numbers strong
Newsweek et al point snidely to as proof
Of herd mentality, or just no life.
I say let's let the snide remain aloof.
These media are lovely, ripe and rife
With opportunities unguessed to find
New friends, old loves, life weirdly redefined.

House Hunting is Fun But O the Dilemmas!!

Would-be homeowner, I cannot decide
Among a field of four potential homes.
I have, of course, a trusty Realtor guide,
But even with his help, attention roams.
An inexpensive house is cute and small --
Too small, I fear, but it would need no work
Before I could move in, my dog and all.
It's dull, though, lacking any charm or quirk.
Two others are more interesting by far,
A split-level with lots of room and land
And a roof that is not up to par --
And an old one's wiring is none too grand.
The final candidate wins on locale.
It's hard to make a choice, but choose I shall!

Downturn, Schmownturn, I've Got Hope and I'm Buying a House to Prove It!

I'm off on an exciting journey, which,
I once would never have thought could occur.
I knew that houses weren't just for the rich,
But didn't grasp just what my options were.
Financial news is grim 'most ev'rywhere;
Wyoming, though, is still in decent shape.
Our progress is so slow and we're so square,
That we take time to catch up, or escape,
The trends beyond our borders. I, therefore,
Have got a chance to move now to improve
My lot in life, to free my hopes to soar,
To make at last a long-awaited move.
I'm house-hunting, for keeps this time, hooray!
All thanks due to the WCDA.