Monday Poem

Why Do We Have Heads At All?—on Daniel Lieberman’s The Evolution of the Human Head“The head presents an evolutionary paradox,”says Lieberman, “The roof of the orbitsis the floor of the brain.” And I imagine a roomin which a miracle sponge sits soaking upwhat it means to be alive while other skullsorbit this particular one which,a…

Monday Poem

Capela dos Ossos —on a Chruch of Bones, Evora, Portugal We pray in a church of bones in which skulls outline graceful archesof low vaults and whose columns are laddersof stacked femurs. We admire its capitals of craniums It’s walls, unlike the idealizations of Michelangelo, are not fantasies romanced in fresco but the real thing:…

Monday Poem

“The only God worth keeping is a God that cannot be kept.The only God worth talking about is a God that cannot be talked about.…God is present when I confront You.” * Modern Timesby Jim Culleny ……………………I and Thou (stern and bow)may have plowed from then to now(but can’t make way from now to thenthrough…

Monday Poem

Working Their Mojo …..——A random report on a staus quo from the wild west It’s hard to tell if we’re in the midst of a permanent downtickor just in the throes of what used to be labeled a bad trip—or if “going-to-hell-in-a-bucket” is apropos I’ve almost given up wondering if we might eventually enter an…

Monday Poem

Fugitive… -on a photo A big brown bison walks the left white lineof a two-lane, black eyes scanning contemplating asphalt he wonderswhat happened to the grass how’d this black ribbon come to bisectmy meadow between talus and hundred-foot pinesand where are the columbine? He asks no one in particular becausenot even the alpha male in…

Monday Poem

Flash Fires If these thoughts became fossilsthey might be found by someneuro-paleontologist in time to comeburied among those of otherspressed in the strata of notionslike carcasses of trilobites in stoneor the bony ghost of a pointing fingercaught in basalt —but they will not be These thoughts are here and gonelike the flickerings of firefliesafter being…

Monday Poem

Build no Mosque Near Zero—zero's too near the hole in our hearts: the naughtwe know at night when the bogey-man bites, the zipwe feel when we love hate, the nada of exclusionwhich seeths in the interstices between faith and fear,the cipher that numbers the digits displayed in a holy fist,the nadir of our understanding, the…

Monday Poem

“Despite its mystic chic the square root of pi is indeterminateand senseless, like many other things.” –Roshi Bob On the Difficult Terminal Illness of a Beloved: Black holes, Big Bang, Bada Bing,quantum space, worm holes, theory of strings;space is a smorgasbord of metaphors of things Inside out, upside down, left and right,geometry, calculus, depth and…

Monday Poem

“Black holes, Big Bang, Bada Bing, quantum space, worm holes, the Theory of Strings; space is a smorgasbord of metaphors of things.” –Roshi Bob, The Theory of Theories and Other Anomalies; Bench Press, 2011Fun in Space………………..Call me nomad, butrootlessness is my routine From where I standspace seems to beg for explorationnot occupation. Occupation of spacerequires…

Monday Poem

1st ZucchiniToday I spied our first zucchiniwhich has followed its saffron flowerlike a compliant stud swelling in shadewithin a forest of coarse stubbled stemsunder a tent of broad leavesgreen as the second color of Christmasa nativity here of the first orderall six inches of it looking to a future of sacrificein a sauté mingled with…

Monday Poem

Tending tomato plants while the earthbleeds into the Gulf of MexicoHunkered, hovering over youclipping your lower leaves leaving uncluttered five inchfur-cloaked stems from soil to crownI imagine your crimson future your load of plump red planetswaiting to be pluckedweighted stalks drooping —just a trellis keeping youfrom collapse the way the cosmosis kept by the tension…

Monday Poem

SeedingSeeding in a cloud of black flieskneeling and swatting lettuce seeds droppingsmall and humble as asterisksnoting other thoughts of legendsof a universe ripe with proteinsand photosynthesis ; of leaves enfolded on dinner platesbeing lifted by forks slicked with vinegar and oil,garnished with mystery, sweet crisp and fresh as the day ofLet there be light by…

Monday Poem

MuhheakantuckThe river that flows both waysflows through my house Sometimes called paradox—called Muhheakantuck by the Lenapewho knew that reversals in timeare not unusual,just often misunderstood by we-who-walk-away-from-understanding The river that flows both wayshas two sources…………….one in front and one behind. It flows fromtwo horizons and meets herein the middle turbulently sometimesbut not always —only when…

Monday Poem

“The Gulf of Mexico is a very big ocean. The amount of volume of oil and dispersant we are putting into it is tiny in relation to the total water volume.”………………–Tony Hayward, CEO British Petroleum, on the Gulf of Mexico oil spill The Mean Density of a Corporate Brain GhazalOne sees more devils than vast…

Monday Poem

The Algonquin tribes knew this moon as thetime to gather ripening strawberries……………………………………–Old Farmer's Almanac Strawberry MoonI read you Strawberry Moonyou pull the sea in the summermore than two-hundred-thousand milesI see your reach is so longyour arm of gravityyour face of sunlight at midnightthey hold me too But in the moon when the deer shed their…