I know the science

Some billions of years ago
the universe erupted into being
and some billions of years from now
the Sun will explode in a minor nova
and many trillions of years later
all the stars will go dark

But lying on this blanket
in some unsuspecting farmer’s field
watching Perseid meteors
flare across the August sky
it all seems so

When I hold your hand

(For today’s Living Poetry Prompt.)


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The Last Survivor


The Last Survivor

I met a survivor of the atomic bomb
at a student peace conference
back when Ronnie Raygun
joked about bombing Soviets

She was delicate demure
a beautiful stereotype
except for burn scars
on the left side of her face

I doubt she’s alive today
and someday soon the survivors
of Hiroshima and Nagasaki
will all be gone

May they be the last
No more survivors
No more victims
of nuclear war

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Ode to Selene


Ode to Selene

She walks in beauty, through the night,
‘cross cloudless skies, eclipsing stars.
Shadows cast by her tranquil light
guide drunken men to topless bars.

She lifts the tides, caresses waves
that sculpt the shores of eager earth
and she endures my rants and raves,
inspiring all I do of worth.

Changing faces every day.
Constant beauty always pure.
Beaming dreams into my sleep.
I’d go crazy without her.

(I wrote this back when I was a baby poet, during my first Poem-A-Day Challenge in April 2011, long before I opened this blog. I stole from Lord Byron in the first stanza and Sting in the third. I present it here with only minor edits.)


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An Exceptionally American Virus

American Virus.jpg

(I’ll be posting this poem in a more social media friendly format to the big three: Facebook, Twitter, Instagram. If you approve, please like and share. Here’s the raw text of the poem for the search engines.)

An Exceptionally American Virus

Our government is infected
by a Republican virus
leaving it irritable and lethargic
and we are the cure.

It lacks conscience,
holds no principles,
seeks only power
and we are the cure.

Money is the vector.
It wants mindless consumers,
instead of engaged citizens
and we are the cure.

It suppresses our vote,
stifles our speech,
spurns our protest
and we are the cure.

At least the Democrats
can be prodded and shamed
into doing the right thing
once we put them in office.

So Stay Loud,
Stay Alive,
Stay Registered
and Vote!

We are the Cure.

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Sonnet of Random Thoughts on Comets


Sonnet of Random Thoughts on Comets

Coming right after my first divorce,
I took Comet Hale-Bopp’s beautiful
sunset show as a good omen— vivid
smudge of yellow in the orange twilight.

My second naked eye comet was barely
noticed and leaves me none the wiser.
While cowering in fear of maskless zombies,
I am proud of my astronomical vigilance.

But I missed Halley’s Comet in ’86.
On the cusp of adulthood in Chicago,
I didn’t even try to bear witness
nor raise a glass to Twain’s return.

I’ll be 97 when it’s back in our skies
but will I have my own or new synthetic eyes?


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Upon seeing Comet NEOWISE


The only way to perceive your beauty
with my naked eye is to look nearby—
too delicate is your light,
too greedy— my desire.


(Last night I was able to see Comet NEOWISE with my unaided eye. Well, just my glasses. Without them I’d have trouble picking out the moon. NEOWISE is only the second comet I’ve been able to see without enhanced optics like binoculars or a telescope, the first being Comet Hale-Bopp in 1997. I’m hoping tonight will be clearer for my male gaze.)


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Sonnet for a Comet


Sonnet for a Comet

With wandering Zeus and Ares
guarding my back, I hunt—
binoculars scanning distant
trees for something even further.

Orion won’t help, he’s resting
after a busy winter— this prey
is elusive and won’t to return,
for a lifetime of lifetimes.

But the glow of the sun
just below the horizon
and the haze of humid summer
conspire to shield my quarry.

I won’t have many more chances
but I’ll try again tonight.


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November Molting


May we break free
from this ugly shell
a better country

(from this week’s Living Poetry Prompt)

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We’re all just particles of music
vibrating alone in the cosmos
searching for harmony



(Image by Mandy Myers)

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The Short of It


I’m proud to announce that three of my poems have been posted on Susi Bocks’ marvelous blog The Short of It. These haven’t been read before except by Ms. Bocks, those few fellow poets who improved them in workshops and my muses.

Gratitude to all of the above.

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