Perhaps we spend too much
time wondering if there are
aliens of the ET sort among us.
Let’s face it, if they are
advanced enough to get here,
they ought to be able to fit in
without standing out, so
sorry Hollywood, it may make
for an exciting movie but
it just isn’t all that likely.
And before you remind me
of UFO sightings, just because
you see a bus stop in the dark
of night, you can’t be certain
anyone got off or on, can you?
Looking out the window
I quickly realize that the window
needs cleaning, and then
that the red-shouldered hawk
in the nearby tree is carefully
staring back at me.
I want to know what
the hawk is thinking, perhaps
that I am possible prey, or
more likely wondering why
I am so foolish as to live
in a strangely large box.
The hawk, of course, is
wondering what I am thinking,
how beautiful he is, what
strange flightless beasts
we humans are, or just
perhaps that my window
very badly needs cleaning
Once the winter stars
wrapped in their cloudy shroud
shed frozen tears, unwilling
to come out of hiding.
We searched for them in vain,
knowing our failure,
retreating to the warmth
of home, only to repeat
the failed effort on so
many other nights.
Now, here, the winter stars
are usually fearless,
some drowned by the moon,
but she waxes and wanes
and they reappear, the brightest
never fearing the chilled sky.
We stare at them in wonder
having forgotten for so many
years just how beautiful
they can be in their glory.
We dance between wanting
to know what is out there,
and fearing that we are not
any longer unique, just one
more in an endless stream.
And then we have to wonder
if the others, such as they are,
wonder what is out there,
and fear that they are not
any longer unique, just one
more in an endless stream.
Has it always been this way,
have some already come
and gone in the flash
of a dying star, or grown
barren from neglect and greed?
Some want to know what
is out there, as out there
could become the only place
separating us from extinction.
We will the sun to rise
it lifts from the horizon
nature knows better
in the depth of night
the one billion trillion stars
always ignore us
neutron stars collide
gravitational waves wash
over the cosmos
while a Goldilocks planet
looks on in childlike wonder
Language is becoming a poor substitute
although I have no word for what it is
that it is a poor substitute for at present.
I grabbed an organic banana
from the refrigerator this morning
and paused to wonder if there are
inorganic bananas somewhere.
My New York Times, as usual, offered
All The News That Is Fit To Print
but I really want to see the news
that is not fit to print, that’s the good stuff.
At least my yogurt was made, it claims,
from all natural ingredients, for that
did have me worried, I don’t wan to ingest
ingredients that are unnatural.
But my whole wheat bread came
with a stern warning as the lawyers
no doubt demanded, that it
shcockingly enough contained wheat.
You there, walking along the midway
come into my tent, for only a dollar
I will show you wonders
beyond your meager comprehension
but this offer is only good
for the next fifteen minutes
for that is when I start my show,
It’s not something you want to miss.
I know you’ve seen quarters pulled
from ears, doves fly off
from and oversized top hat
that moments before was empty
but you have never seen
the likes of what I will show you.
Here is my father, watch him
closely cast his seed, closely
and like that he is gone.
Not good enough you say
then watch again, even
more closely this time, see her
lie on my table, her gown
draped over her, see me reach
and pluck a small baby
better than a pigeon isn’t it,
but you blinked, where has she gone.
Only tepid applause, so I guess
you want one more, and I
am never one to disappoint.
See him standing there
it almost looked like
he is standing before a mirror shaving
and now he, too, is gone
before your very eyes.
If you still aren’t satisfied
if you haven’t gotten
your monies worth then please,
please step forward, for I can work
with others than my parents,
truly I can, so where are you going.
Step into my tent ladies and gentlemen
the next show starts
in only fifteen minutes,
all for a single dollar.
First published in The Parliament Literary Magazine – Issue 5- Masks and ManesÂ
Last night in my sleep
I though I heard an angel
althougn I could not, for trying,
understand what it was saying,
and it is odd since I
do not believe in angels.
Perhaps it was the cat,
but if so she has come up
with a new voice, using words
not formerly in her vocabulary,
but you put nothing
past a cat, ever.
I did ask the cat if she
had called out during the night
but she said it was not her,
and she wondered who
was in my room singing
in voice far sweeter than mine.
You have to stop and wonder,
the child said, why people
can take joy in killing, why
people can scheme each other,
why people can cheat if they can.
Birds, the child added, only
try and scheme people for food,
why they cheat for the sake
of cheating, kill for pleasure,
yet we say we are the higher species.
Perhaps, the child concludes,
it is we who are standing
on our heads, looking up
the species ladder, and we
are actually on the bottom.
There are a group of them
who stare at the sky
knowing it is coming
launched on its course
at the beginning of time
which has no beginning.
Some say it will be soon
others are less certain when
but all accept without question
its inevitability, and wonder
what will remain in its
aftermath, seas evaporated,
continents blotted, it is easy
I tell them, there will be
a freaking big mess
for the roaches to clean up.
an old writer and his words 