R.I.P. Neil Armstrong

We knew your footprint would outlive you, yet
It's sad to see this day we've gotten proof
Of this. Test pilot, teacher, icon, let
Us shout as one: we'll miss you. Those who spoof
Your great achievement may not ever stop,
But we who watched you live, or benefit
In other ways from what you did won't drop
The torch you've passed to us. We thank you. It
Still staggers me, that step. I cannot think
What life's been like for you since you came back.
Did you think you'd be first of many, drink
Toasts to our future colony? I lack
The words right now to share just how I feel.
At least the whole world knows this grief is real.

Bring On The Dark

The moon's eclipsing on this solstice night?
Oh noes! Just how much darkness can we take?
We surely all shall perish from sheer fright
(Those of us whom the Great Old Ones don't bake
Into big pies for Festivus). As for
My part, a huge and blood-red, sky-borne orb
Seems emblematic of my mood. I'm sore
Of heart and mind - there's too much to absorb:
These holidays are stupid, crass and dull.
I'm longing for real winter, cold and long
And thoughtful; I appreciate the lull.
My pull towards winter I find just as strong
As e'er it was. 'Til then, I nod and sigh
And watch the silly season plod on by.

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 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 I Geek Out On Some Cool Objects

Those who have seen me 'round know how I love

Two pieces of odd jewelry that I've got.

Each morning these days I dither: which of

These two artworks I'll wear and which I'll not

(The two of them together would not work;

They both are necklaces). The Earth and Moon?

The grasshopper? Sure, you may smile and smirk

But get some Surlyramics of your own

And see how good you are at choosing which

To wear each day! If science turns your crank,

If skeptic witticisms flip your switch,

Then you'll do well to click over and thank

Me later for the tip. I was not paid

To write this, mind. I just like what she's made.

In Which I Unwittingly Fight A Bungie Cord And The Bungie Wins

On pre-dawn bike trips many hazards loom --
Both real and real imaginary; some
Are naught but shadows; others, in the gloom,
May look like lurking muggers, but just dumb,
Mute signposts stand there when I'm close enough
To make that out. I know this and prepare
Each morn for that frisson. But other stuff
No mental calisthenics can, I swear,
Quite make predictable. Of course, in part
'Tis,too, my fault for moongazing right where
A vicious bungie cord (curse the black heart
Of he who left it; may he wind up there
In trailer park hell where such boobs belong)
Reached up and caught my wheel and all went wrong.

BONUS SONNET: In Which I Take A Slightly Inebriated Bike Ride

A few beers 'neath my belt from Kevin's pad,

Deep Blue between my legs under a sky

Both deep and dark, a bright moon and a tad

Too much effusive joy to act as guide

I pedaled swiftly home. The Greenway's glow

In moonlight kept me safely within bounds

Though my gaze was turned up more, toward the show

Up there, as Venus shyly made her rounds

Close to our satellite, which so has caught

Our thoughts, imagination for so long.

Just slightly off my stride, I perhaps ought

Not to have been a-biking, but no wrong

Or harm came to me; truly I felt charmed

And now am home all safe and yes, unharmed.

July 21, 1969 - And 2009

My eyes are ever drawn to the night sky.
Last Friday, Jupiter and sev'ral moons
Had me transfixed; I'd still be there, my eye
Pressed to a scope. Nights turn always to noons,
Though. Now today the world is looking back
To when our moon first felt a human step,
But some of us are also keeping track
Of Jupiter's black spot. I did not get
To see it Friday night; no black spot was
There to be seen back then. It might be so
That just ere that astronomer from Oz
Observed it that a comet struck a blow!
Meanwhile the men who first trod Luna's dust
Declare that now our job is Mars or bust.

BONUS SONNET: In Which I Howl At The Moon

'Twas forty years ago this very day

Apollo the Eleventh left the pad

Bound for a date with destiny away

Upon another world. Three men all clad

In our space age's finest future garb

Left Earth to walk upon our planet's moon.

Since then we've scarce returned; there lies a barb

That wounds me, yet I've hope we'll be there soon

Again. There's LRO/LCROSS and all.

Meanwhile our own dear Duncan Jones has made

A worthy little film, a clarion call,

One vision of what we might have to trade

To live there and to keep our lifestyle here.

I took it in today. This Moon, I cheer!

BONUS BONUS SONNET: In Which Mary And I Claim Credit For The Weather Clearing For The Big Launch

The weather threatened to delay our launch

Of LRO and L-CROSS to the moon.

A lightning storm would violate the staunch

Rulebook regarding really just how soon

We can ignite the rocket, fire it off.

So my fair tweep, Mactavish, yea, and I,

Though skeptics to the bone and prone to scoff

At magic thinking, sucked it up to try

Propitiating the great mad god Thor.

A sacrificial goat would be the best,

But hard to come by. She and I, therefore,

Winos for NASA, put this to the test:

A sweet, sweet wine tastes almost quite like mead

Could pouring some for Thor help us succeed?

In Which I Crane My Neck And Wait For LRO/LCROSS To Tell Me More

Outdoors at night, where do we always look?

Into the sky; the moon is shining there.

I'd be there now were wishing what it took,

But just one girl can wish, but never dare

The aether on her own, nor go so far

(Two hundred thousand miles in airless cold).

It takes a civ'lization's works, as our

Space program's done, to reach what we behold

As indirect light from our sister stone,

Explore its peaks and valleys, craters, plains.

No part of it can yet be called our own,

No matter what our flag, fragmented, claims.

The first moonwalk was not long ere my birth.

I'm 39 and we're still just on Earth.