I imagine you as I see you
laced up to the knees in red doc martens
grey blue eyes changing with every emotion
power surging up in every step
a blind force of nature
at times
grace and deliverance at others
hair color a whim of the lunar cycle
that takes care to calibrate itself on your personal rhythm
rules are always of your invention
an ordnance that tumbles from
tempestuous skies
lightning strikes
with more warning
Pink- Please don't leave me
September 1, 1939 by W. H. Auden
I sit in one of the dives
On Fifty-second Street
Uncertain and afraid
As the clever hopes expire
Of a low dishonest decade:
Waves of anger and fear
Circulate over the bright
And darkened lands of the earth,
Obsessing our private lives;
The unmentionable odour of death
Offends the September night.
Accurate scholarship can
Unearth the whole offence
From Luther until now
That has driven a culture mad,
Find what occurred at Linz,
What huge imago made
A psychopathic god:
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.
Exiled Thucydides knew
All that a speech can say
About Democracy,
And what dictators do,
The elderly rubbish they talk
To an apathetic grave;
Analysed all in his book,
The enlightenment driven away,
The habit-forming pain,
Mismanagement and grief:
We must suffer them all again.
Into this neutral air
Where blind skyscrapers use
Their full height to proclaim
The strength of Collective Man,
Each language pours its vain
Competitive excuse:
But who can live for long
In an euphoric dream;
Out of the mirror they stare,
Imperialism's face
And the international wrong.
Faces along the bar
Cling to their average day:
The lights must never go out,
The music must always play,
All the conventions conspire
To make this fort assume
The furniture of home;
Lest we should see where we are,
Lost in a haunted wood,
Children afraid of the night
Who have never been happy or good.
The windiest militant trash
Important Persons shout
Is not so crude as our wish:
What mad Nijinsky wrote
About Diaghilev
Is true of the normal heart;
For the error bred in the bone
Of each woman and each man
Craves what it cannot have,
Not universal love
But to be loved alone.
From the conservative dark
Into the ethical life
The dense commuters come,
Repeating their morning vow;
"I will be true to the wife,
I'll concentrate more on my work,"
And helpless governors wake
To resume their compulsory game:
Who can release them now,
Who can reach the deaf,
Who can speak for the dumb?
All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.
Defenceless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.
Better Days
“Nothing is unstable,” Frank Wilczek, a physicist and Nobel laureate from MIT, finally said to a general murmur of agreement of his colleagues on stage, John Barrow of Cambridge University in England, Paul Davies of Arizona State and George Ellis of the University of Cape Town in South Africa.
John Tierney NYT
If nothing is really nothing then why do we have the physics of nothing
Nothing really matters anymore
nothing is more important that came before
nothing is really just nothing
A line not heard of little relevance
Lost in the ether of a million aimless conversations
thrown away, the response
to a million questions
lost in thought, feeling misunderstood,
or too excited to linger on a tangent thought
nothing, she said,
but nothing is more
the space between
and all around
a cushion of nothing
is what holds together
every iota of a thing
is really no less
than everything
Summer comes in on an angular slide
wary at first, witdrawing at the first sign
of popular acclaim
reticient as an aging movie star
she phones ahead books a place
and then arrives
oh so fashionably late
It is during this time of hesitant arrival
where I find myself there but not
really there
as she is so quick to remind me
Not one for moment by moment awareness
I am reminded by one elgant as a swan
of meditative awareness
of the here and now
she is there always and I
like this years summer
tend to live
on an angular slide
The Prince's Rainforest project is worth your attention. Prince Charles, Britain's long standing monarch in waiting has lent his name and all the cache that entails to bringing attention to the astounding rate of loss of the world's rain forests. The most famous lie along the Amazon but as a whole they are scattered across an equatorial belt around the planet.
Development projects pushed by a bourgening population and avaricious industry threaten the existance of this vital ecosystem.
The site is headlined by a ticker counter that gives an idea of the rate of deforestation taking place. Its content outlines the logic of preservation. There is no man made technology yet available that provides a better way of collecting carbon dioxide let alone converting it to useful biomass in the way the trees do. The site explains all this and underlines the inescapable logic of preservation. Do give it look here
