Shiny, silvery loving and strong.
Carbon fiber, aluminum, titanium,
controlled nano-chipped-face-flushed.
That’s my granpa.
Bio rhythms, any color he feels, he is,
Today silver, later green, red…
or almost invisible cloaked,
only his voice spoken,
hide and seek, then time for bed.
He reflects the sun so bright,
the moon the stars at night,
The trees in the forest,
cars go by.
****
My Granpa, I hold his finger silver as we walk.
I’m pinkish and in the sun too long, brown.
****
He talks about today, tomorrow, and yesterday
He’s very old they say;
new shiny-bright, silvery, his face smiles.
if you look closely do you begin to see,
you’d never know,
Only his eyes
they show something else again.
I ask but the answer I get,
“Living long does that,” makes no sense to me.
But Granpa, he’s there, not like dad or mother,
like me!
He said he accepted the mods, one of the first.
He looks down at me and whispers
in my ear, a tickle of a sound,
“hybrid, human brain and bot.”
I look up to him a lot,
He’s still my granpa is he not?
So what’s all the talk about?
I may be young but I wonder
what all the changes do:
Chipped and flesh,
I can’t wait until I get my turn
A hybrid human being chipped
like Granpa and then me?
how do they mesh?
to choose:
****
We know, and as others
suited up fine, the same,
hybrid, thoughts of evolution.
Just the next steps in the mud.
follow,
Friday, March 28, 2014
A Schrödinger Mouse
Nineteen years old no more be said.
It’s a fact the cat is dead.
So now with puss diseased
in my house there is a mouse.
Sometimes Definitely I hear one
Or
Then other times think I, maybe a few?
Scurrying scratching in the wall,
then in the attic above us all.
I set a trap, it doesn’t take.
I lay some poison, it’s probably fake.
So I listen…………………………………. not a sound.
Not a scratch not a peep
?????Hmmmmmmmm?????
Is it waiting for me to fall asleep
But then
and to the pantry my candies to eat?
Or
In my house
dare I ask, do I have,
do I continue to look
a Schrödinger mouse?
in my house
It’s a fact the cat is dead.
So now with puss diseased
in my house there is a mouse.
Sometimes Definitely I hear one
Or
Then other times think I, maybe a few?
Scurrying scratching in the wall,
then in the attic above us all.
I set a trap, it doesn’t take.
I lay some poison, it’s probably fake.
So I listen…………………………………. not a sound.
Not a scratch not a peep
?????Hmmmmmmmm?????
Is it waiting for me to fall asleep
But then
and to the pantry my candies to eat?
Or
In my house
dare I ask, do I have,
do I continue to look
a Schrödinger mouse?
in my house
Thursday, March 27, 2014
A Promise
My 4 year old,
“Please daddy, don’t leave me.”
My then wife once stated,
“He’ll be the cop that shoots you
at your protest marches.”
Working forty hours or more:
pumping gas at midnights,
cleaning toilets on the 2nd shift,
attending college full time.
If anything
His plea stays with me
even today
sixty years later,
and
the promise to my self:
never
to leave a child again.
A second marriage.
Love lost or never there.
No matter.
The promise kept.
Saturday, March 15, 2014
THE MANY WORLDS Of The MOUSE
The year is 1925 in a small laboratory at the University of Zurich. Annemarie, the wife of
the soon to be great professor, disrupts him in some thought experiment, his hand covered
in chalk and equations written all over the blackboard behind him.
“Yes Anne what is it now?”
“Erwin you just received a letter from the United States. It’s a legal document.”
“Read it to me,” he says in a dismissive manner.
She begins, “Dr. Erwin Rudolph Alexander Schrodinger, Professor University
Of Zurich, you are herby commanded to appear before the Federal District Court,
Hollywood, in the Republic of California to answer the following complaint:
ASPCA vs. Dr. Erwin Schrodinger…”
He interrupts, “the charge?”
“Cruelty to animals…” she replies.
“What are you talking about? This is insane.”
“Dear, it seems that your foul little pet mouse Micha, the one that disappeared,
that you blamed on me, is living in California with some artist as his protector or
something like that. They brought the complaint to the ASPCA.”
“And what does this idiotic complaint allege?”
Annemarie holds back a chuckle as she reads the complaint to make sure she has
all the facts correct.
“Well what does it state? I have work to do.”
Annemarie summarizes, “It goes on to state that Micha Mouse claims you
attempted to murder and not murder him by way of a wave function and superposition
experiment. Said mouse escaped by gnawing his way out of a wooded box designed to
possibly release a deadly poison, and then possibly not, within which he was held against
his will.”
Erwin interrupts her. “You mean to tell me that Micha, as smart as he might have
been, was smart enough to escape from here, find his way to a ship, cross the Atlantic,
and then manage to travel across the continent. And on top of that he moved in with this
artist or some such nonsense convincing her, I assume the artist is female, no man in his
right mind would play with a mouse and…”
Annemarie, her hands on her hips, documents scrunched in one hand, stares at
Erwin and says, “Whose pet mouse was Micha? And who taught him mathematics and to
type?”
Erwin stops. He rolled his eyes and says, “Yes you have a point. So Micha is in
the United States. He convinced some hare brained artist to take him in and now I’m
being sued and charged with cruelty to Micha.”
“Yes dear and it is California. And as I understand, California can be considered
a totally different reality.”
“Mein Gott! Annemarie, that gives me another idea. I’ll write a letter to Dr.
Einstein about the possibility of, what would you call it, hmmmm, let me think, parallel
realities? Does it work somewhat with my ideas on superposition. I’m not sure. I’ll have
to do the math.” He faces the blackboard, starts writing some equations when he turns to
his wife and asks, “Are you sure this isn’t some sort of joke?”
”No it is not. The letter was delivered by a messenger form the American
Embassy.”
“Can I ignore it?”
“No, not at all,” she says.
“What do they really want? There’s got to be something about this. They can’t
actually expect me to travel to America to answer this absurd charge? And hiring a
lawyer would cost a fortune.”
“Dear, there is a separate note. It’s sealed.” Annemarie opens it, reads it and then
looks up at Erwin Schrodinger. “You are correct, again.”
“Of course, well?”
She continues, “The artist name is mentioned here but the document states we can
never disclose it. The artist states that Micha is a wonderful animal and is healthy. He
adds that as he understands it, Micha still belongs to you. And that Micha really has no
rights to stand on.”
“So what has that do with anything except when I get that mouse back…”
“There’s more,” Annemarie interrupts her husband again. “If you allow this artist
animator, aha an illustrator, to adopt Micha, he will have all the charges dropped. All you
have to do is sign the enclosed documents, give up all rights to Micha and any thing that
might become of him. There’s a signature and a paw print. How cute. By the way we can
never mention the artist’s name, ever.”
“Have you ever heard of him? I can’t even make out his signature,” says Erwin
looking the letter and the accompanying documents.
No. He must be young,” she answers. “What wife would put up with a husband
with a nasty pet mouse?” She laughs at her own joke and gives Erwin a peck on the
cheek.
He signs it and then says, “Give this copy to our lawyer and make sure the
original gets posted to the embassy as soon as possible. I have work to do. All this for a
mouse? My reputation is on the line for what?
“I have Rocky the neighbor’s cat here. We’ve become friends.” He points to a
very fat black and white Sylvester looking beast curled up on the desk. The cat opens one
green eye in a quite bored cat look. Erwin looks around and then says, “And I’ll use that
damned cat. He’s too stupid and lazy. And next time, I’m going to construct a steel box
just like Dr. Einstein suggested. And instead of poison I’ll use gunpowder. The explosion
will eliminate the contradiction of observation and observer and the linear combination of
possible states.”
Erwin stops and gives the almost sleeping cat a pet. “Yes you’re mine now and
to hell with that mouse. Imagine getting all wrapped up about a mouse. I have a class to
teach.”
“Rerooow,” said Rocky as he curled up into a ball.
the soon to be great professor, disrupts him in some thought experiment, his hand covered
in chalk and equations written all over the blackboard behind him.
“Yes Anne what is it now?”
“Erwin you just received a letter from the United States. It’s a legal document.”
“Read it to me,” he says in a dismissive manner.
She begins, “Dr. Erwin Rudolph Alexander Schrodinger, Professor University
Of Zurich, you are herby commanded to appear before the Federal District Court,
Hollywood, in the Republic of California to answer the following complaint:
ASPCA vs. Dr. Erwin Schrodinger…”
He interrupts, “the charge?”
“Cruelty to animals…” she replies.
“What are you talking about? This is insane.”
“Dear, it seems that your foul little pet mouse Micha, the one that disappeared,
that you blamed on me, is living in California with some artist as his protector or
something like that. They brought the complaint to the ASPCA.”
“And what does this idiotic complaint allege?”
Annemarie holds back a chuckle as she reads the complaint to make sure she has
all the facts correct.
“Well what does it state? I have work to do.”
Annemarie summarizes, “It goes on to state that Micha Mouse claims you
attempted to murder and not murder him by way of a wave function and superposition
experiment. Said mouse escaped by gnawing his way out of a wooded box designed to
possibly release a deadly poison, and then possibly not, within which he was held against
his will.”
Erwin interrupts her. “You mean to tell me that Micha, as smart as he might have
been, was smart enough to escape from here, find his way to a ship, cross the Atlantic,
and then manage to travel across the continent. And on top of that he moved in with this
artist or some such nonsense convincing her, I assume the artist is female, no man in his
right mind would play with a mouse and…”
Annemarie, her hands on her hips, documents scrunched in one hand, stares at
Erwin and says, “Whose pet mouse was Micha? And who taught him mathematics and to
type?”
Erwin stops. He rolled his eyes and says, “Yes you have a point. So Micha is in
the United States. He convinced some hare brained artist to take him in and now I’m
being sued and charged with cruelty to Micha.”
“Yes dear and it is California. And as I understand, California can be considered
a totally different reality.”
“Mein Gott! Annemarie, that gives me another idea. I’ll write a letter to Dr.
Einstein about the possibility of, what would you call it, hmmmm, let me think, parallel
realities? Does it work somewhat with my ideas on superposition. I’m not sure. I’ll have
to do the math.” He faces the blackboard, starts writing some equations when he turns to
his wife and asks, “Are you sure this isn’t some sort of joke?”
”No it is not. The letter was delivered by a messenger form the American
Embassy.”
“Can I ignore it?”
“No, not at all,” she says.
“What do they really want? There’s got to be something about this. They can’t
actually expect me to travel to America to answer this absurd charge? And hiring a
lawyer would cost a fortune.”
“Dear, there is a separate note. It’s sealed.” Annemarie opens it, reads it and then
looks up at Erwin Schrodinger. “You are correct, again.”
“Of course, well?”
She continues, “The artist name is mentioned here but the document states we can
never disclose it. The artist states that Micha is a wonderful animal and is healthy. He
adds that as he understands it, Micha still belongs to you. And that Micha really has no
rights to stand on.”
“So what has that do with anything except when I get that mouse back…”
“There’s more,” Annemarie interrupts her husband again. “If you allow this artist
animator, aha an illustrator, to adopt Micha, he will have all the charges dropped. All you
have to do is sign the enclosed documents, give up all rights to Micha and any thing that
might become of him. There’s a signature and a paw print. How cute. By the way we can
never mention the artist’s name, ever.”
“Have you ever heard of him? I can’t even make out his signature,” says Erwin
looking the letter and the accompanying documents.
No. He must be young,” she answers. “What wife would put up with a husband
with a nasty pet mouse?” She laughs at her own joke and gives Erwin a peck on the
cheek.
He signs it and then says, “Give this copy to our lawyer and make sure the
original gets posted to the embassy as soon as possible. I have work to do. All this for a
mouse? My reputation is on the line for what?
“I have Rocky the neighbor’s cat here. We’ve become friends.” He points to a
very fat black and white Sylvester looking beast curled up on the desk. The cat opens one
green eye in a quite bored cat look. Erwin looks around and then says, “And I’ll use that
damned cat. He’s too stupid and lazy. And next time, I’m going to construct a steel box
just like Dr. Einstein suggested. And instead of poison I’ll use gunpowder. The explosion
will eliminate the contradiction of observation and observer and the linear combination of
possible states.”
Erwin stops and gives the almost sleeping cat a pet. “Yes you’re mine now and
to hell with that mouse. Imagine getting all wrapped up about a mouse. I have a class to
teach.”
“Rerooow,” said Rocky as he curled up into a ball.
Monday, March 10, 2014
Dead Heading
Dead Heading to the terminals.
GPS the hidden controller.
They all leave like clock work.
Picks the load and picks the road.
Organized at the highest levels.
Leeway given for their speed;
Invisible to the badge.
OVERALL,
They have deadlines to meet.
OVERALL,
The system’s huge fleet.
OVERALL,
Hammer down, pedal to the metal.
Polished Chromium Pipes.
Sweet the sound, the pitch, the timbre.
Exhaust tuned, running true
matched to engine and the fuel.
Blue smoke, faintly, hued.
Running hard
Like there is no tomorrow.
GPS, he knows where they are.
GPS, he knows when they will get
To the point.
The exhaust plume,
the smell,
Deep from the earth,
Up from the wells.
Burning fire,
compression ignition.
Metal contained hell.
GPS we know where they are.
GPS we know when they
Reach that point.
Sekhmet, Perses, Shiva and Kali
Senior drivers in the union.
Of all?
Of all remember the old days
And today?
They see, and saw it coming.
Shiva and Kali over the radio
Internet connects the rest.
Trucks on the road.
Full up loads.
To the ports load one more
The parts fit together.
Never more.
Gabriel Trucking rules the road.
Gabriel sings to the country tune.
Waiting for the call and add new fuel.
Feeds the fire deep below.
The exhaust note changes.
The pitch is shrill.
An increase in power and never more.
Destruction in the wakes.
the tune they make.
Shiva, Sekhmet, Kali, Perses
THE FOUR
Nod in unison
As Gabriel emails all.
Fuel systems change over
The vehicles’ scream the change
Exhaust pitch harmonics
Road beneath the big wheels vanish.
It’s End of the world
As we know it.
As Gabriel calls the tune.
GPS, God’s Planned System.
GPS the hidden controller.
They all leave like clock work.
Picks the load and picks the road.
Organized at the highest levels.
Leeway given for their speed;
Invisible to the badge.
OVERALL,
They have deadlines to meet.
OVERALL,
The system’s huge fleet.
OVERALL,
Hammer down, pedal to the metal.
Polished Chromium Pipes.
Sweet the sound, the pitch, the timbre.
Exhaust tuned, running true
matched to engine and the fuel.
Blue smoke, faintly, hued.
Running hard
Like there is no tomorrow.
GPS, he knows where they are.
GPS, he knows when they will get
To the point.
The exhaust plume,
the smell,
Deep from the earth,
Up from the wells.
Burning fire,
compression ignition.
Metal contained hell.
GPS we know where they are.
GPS we know when they
Reach that point.
Sekhmet, Perses, Shiva and Kali
Senior drivers in the union.
Of all?
Of all remember the old days
And today?
They see, and saw it coming.
Shiva and Kali over the radio
Internet connects the rest.
Trucks on the road.
Full up loads.
To the ports load one more
The parts fit together.
Never more.
Gabriel Trucking rules the road.
Gabriel sings to the country tune.
Waiting for the call and add new fuel.
Feeds the fire deep below.
The exhaust note changes.
The pitch is shrill.
An increase in power and never more.
Destruction in the wakes.
the tune they make.
Shiva, Sekhmet, Kali, Perses
THE FOUR
Nod in unison
As Gabriel emails all.
Fuel systems change over
The vehicles’ scream the change
Exhaust pitch harmonics
Road beneath the big wheels vanish.
It’s End of the world
As we know it.
As Gabriel calls the tune.
GPS, God’s Planned System.
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