The Watchmakers Off to Other Universes

Ha, ha at the end

The joke is on us

Our dead friends watched


I appeal! My thoughts lost in simple, quick moment, gone.


Cool as in chill, be calm

Cool as in hep, hip, aware

Cool as in don’t say a word


Never mind that appeal. I’m out of here –


Looking for the next lyric flying by

That Irish gene shared with birds

our bursting into song             overwhelms


Even the common parts of our souls predated

All things set to work precisely, apparently wear down

quite easily in the Milky Way’s ultra swirl and orbit


The creator(s) left many punch lists un-punched

Clearly but that doesn’t save us in any specific way


It seems we save each other if there’s any savings

to be had over here in this corner


An afternoon fog comes down and I am a tree in mid-June

Summer waits in the wing for Spring to finish her act


Count on us to land somewhere we can find comfort

as much as mine

Immediate goals make sense of the unending nothing

I keep finding on the floor and in the unused closets

as I try to figure out the value of this house

without any of the good times being sale able


Could be a host of possibilities but who gets to choose

– You? Me? Depends on how much we like to be fools


Spotify is the new radio, record player, stereo system

all in one and on the computer where our friends are


yet there’re radios or a cd players in many of the rooms

But all that old stuff will be removed before the staging


Who cares what the new owners may do with the place

It’ll be theirs as soon as the check cashes – though

I’ve no reason not to wish them well, the best even:

May your life be blessed living here as ours has been

I might get dressed before noon

What meaning, what purpose persists on a day like this:

green and cool and sunny as small bugs flit in shaded air?


Many of my neighbors have their combustion engines

firing, working their lawns toward summer. I don’t care


Instead I focus on the blue above, where it might take me

Perhaps to some land where I hear birds sing and trees waft

light in a breeze that whispers patience and joy


Perhaps to new adventures, worse dangers on that horizon

A jogger, rolling heel to toe, runs along. Later, a few cars

claim the road as if we must live where we were born


Three strands of oak beard hang from the power lines

connecting our house to a culture we find less attractive


Out of golden trees black birds maneuver their flight

paths around this house, something seen as don’t smash into


How much of the story

do you need to know

to follow what is said?


Each relationship offers


What was promised

often stays unfulfilled


March winds blow into April

The calendar an approximation

Spring arrives on its own terms


We may all deserve a queen

loved by the populace


Still we get what we get – today

sunshine & chilly north-wind gusts


Reminders of how tight

Nature’s grip holds

It Takes Days To Get A Moment Right

The only difference between here & the frontier:

Here houses stand quiet in hills of weeks of ice


There are no houses on the frontier. A cabin or

lean-to here & there – no planned neighborhood

not on that horizon yet owned by wild beasts


I’m also struck by the houses being empty

No one is making any apparent moves


No bodies in winter wear walk the paths

they’d shoveled from front doors to car doors &

carved along roadways to the mail boxes


I haven’t even seen anyone walking a dog

Has my dream of being left alone come real?


No way to tell. Some things remain beyond us, like

my slow, lingering understanding of human nature

Global Society

Faux pas were made, there’s no denying that

But so what, nobody’s perfect. The world isn’t

nothing, despite Socrates, but a perfect shame


When truth is but what cannot be denied

Simple. The rest is all god confusing god

for a goof or so it seems


Do we senselessly debate the Nature of Reality?

The world doesn’t have any problems – it is timed

for material destruction. We have problems with that


All the rest is failure to compromise and epidemic

diarrhea we’d rather not discuss in detail. We can’t

stay here too much longer, the waters are rising

Charlie Hebdo?

I guess when non-believers outnumber the believers; that is, if and when the legal modern state, secular in its nature, supersedes “the law” of historical religions, then killers will be arrested for the crime of murder not some ambiguous term like “terrorism.” I hope the change takes place soon before more are killed under a pretense rife with psychological problems. But I don’t put much faith in hope these days.

When Science upsets Religion, Science is usually on the right track. Historical figures gifted with god status remain prime fodder for satire, especially in the parts of this world that have been through dada and surrealism.

What recourse does one have when offended? Has this issue not been discussed before in world courts? Let’s reiterate the law and the differences: Is it, the rights of your fist end just before somebody’s jaw? Or there’ll be no hitting, even hitting back? That thin line between thought and action wavering like a loopy sine wave in the green light of the oscilloscope.

Do radical believers subscribe to Charlie Hebdo? If so offended, could they not get their money back? I figure I could go walking out in my neighborhood and find something offensive. Probably I could walk by that whatever offends me day after day until I really feel offended, until I’m driven to demand justice? Oh, there’s a word filled with philosophical differences; for instance, if “justice” is getting what you deserve, then who decides who deserves what? Who decides depends on who has the power to enforce such a decision, I suppose.