Career

Someone told me learn to code,
And so I travelled down that road.
Code is not the road for all.
Many stumble, many fall,
And many find it boring as hell.
I understand. I wish you well.

Transatlantic

They held beliefs
Most thought unreasonable.
Defying the law,
In ways some thought treasonable.
They hopped on a boat
To escape legal limits,
And somehow made land -
So they occupied Plymouth.

Happy Thanksgiving to Everyone

In the bogs of Massachusetts, 

The wild cranberries grow. 

How they end up as cylindrical sauce - 

I simply do not know!

How It Starts

Not always, but often, this is how it starts.

There comes a nagging feeling at my heart,

Knocking recurringly, and in its hand 

A scrap of paper holding just once sentence, 

Whispered into my ear as a command: 

Complete this phrase, perform it as a penance 

For all your vagueness, work it out in words, 

A web of sound that somehow carries meaning, 

Not perfectly clear, perhaps, but at least leaning 

Toward clarity. And I, as by now you've inferred, 

Take up the challenge and struggle to append 

Thoughts that will bring the starting thought to an end.

Apostrophe S

Most English nouns possess

Other nouns with apostrophe S,

And when we make a contraction

With IS… we use the same action,

And say: “The dog’s collar’s wet.”

How confusing can you get?

House

 My father owned the house for fifty years,

And all those fifty years I had a key. 

New people live there now, and it appears 

They love the place. That’s gratifying to me. 

But still at times I feel the house is mine. 

The empty garbage bins - I want to haul

Them up the drive. I leave them there. It’s fine.

The chores belong to them. Not mine at all. 

Most days I walk by twice, it’s on the way

To where I catch the train. I feel its presence 

More than I see it, as my memories play

On automatic - mostly rather pleasant. 

I have an edifice complex. That’s a pun.

I carry it with me, as a dutiful son.

Politicized Biology

Biology has been complicated needlessly,

Reportedly through evolution. 

The Soviets simplified it heedlessly 

After their revolution. 

Lysenko had theories of botany

He said would grow more food.

Results? He hadn’t got any. 

The masses were thoroughly screwed.

New Rumor

As a news-addicted boomer, 

I'd like to start a new rumor, 

Something fairly frightening, 

To strike the heart like lightning, 

Along with a quicky quacky 

Cure that itself is wacky: 

I hear there's an alien plan 

To lizardize every man, 

So consume lots of catnip daily 

Or your skin will turn green and scaly!

Buggy

The silkworm and the honeybee

Make useful products for you and me. 

Not sure what the other bugs are for,

Can’t find their products at the store. 

And as for mosquitoes, well I declare,

I’d like to blast them from the air!

Plan

I have a plan to procrastinate. 

Not just yet. I’m going to wait.

Half Awake

Alarm went off, but Marsha did not stir. 

Quietly I arose and hit the button, 

And carefully I climbed back into bed. 

She must be tired - no motion or sound from her. 

Glanced at my phone for news, but I found nothing, 

At least nothing big, so I got up instead, 

And flipped the light. A mystery cleared without warning. 

Marsha is still in California this morning.

Living in the Future

The first one, Sputnik, went up when I was five, 

But now they swarm in flocks far overhead 

A vast array, a net around the earth. 

And here I am, observing, still alive, 

Arrived into a future not imagined - 

No flying cars, but cell phones that are worth 

More than the sums that used to ransom kings. 

This is a time of strange and beautiful things.

Retaking College Hill

I’ve been thinking over Walter Donway’s new novel, Retaking College Hill. I enjoyed it, was moved by it, was moved to thought by it. Gave it a full set of stars. 

I’ve heard some people don’t like the sexual relationships in the book. I thought they were a bit quirky at times, but I thought they were well written and reflective of the author’s personal sexuality in some way. I’ve read a bunch of his fiction and poetry. At times he definitely leans into the erotic, with what you might call a traditional “me-Tarzan, you Jane” attitude. A retro attitude. I think he’s actually strong in such scenes, they come across quite vividly. But someone else’s vivid fantasy can be disturbing at times, and I imagine that’s what’s going on here. I found them a little jarring at times, not in a bad way. I think they are meant to be a bit startling. This book is full of unconventional characters doing bold things. 

The setting is an Ivy League school. Basically, it’s Brown, which the author attended long ago. And the college is beset with activist protesters and political correctness - and violence and intrigue. It’s the violence and intrigue that lead to this book being a thriller, a tale involving multiple murder attempts. Did I warn you there would be spoilers? Well, I will try to keep them to a minimum. 

This is not a book which looks at its villains from the inside. The tactics of the Left are sketched in detail, but we don’t get invited into the heads of the Left. This is not a Dostoevskian approach. Nor do we have a major waffling character, you know, a person we follow along with while they must choose between the two sides. I would say the book is written for people who already have their minds made up about campus intimidation tactics as practiced on the Left. 

What the book means to explore is the best way to respond to such intimidation. This is what the lead characters have trouble coming to a consensus about. Without giving too much away, I think the author believes that, when necessary, force should be met with force, but that the real battle is one of ideas, and that alumni and donors should stop funding postmodern causes, and start funding rational philosophy.  Ayn Rand is repeatedly singled out as an ideal basis for an antidote to postmodernism. 

The storyline agitated me. I kept thinking that characters I cared about were in more trouble than they knew. I felt tragedy looming on the horizon. I was not totally wrong about that, but there was triumph on the horizon as well. I came away, after all that, with my heart lifted, surprised by a book that had worked its share of visionary power, by making me live through an intense adventure.

Obligatory rhyme:

Consider giving this book
A look.

Salem Mayhem

Some say that Salesman is Miller’s best play, 

But there’s another that blows me away: 

When children see demons that are not there, 

Conjuring evil out of the air, 

Leveling charges of monstrous deeds, 

Taking delight when a victim bleeds, 

Claiming instead to be victims themselves, 

Whining as if they endured endless hells, 

All the while honored for virtuous bravery, 

Tortured within by their envious knavery - 

This is the story that leaps from the page 

Whenever The Crucible plays on the stage.

Inspired by Noel Coward's Private Lives

Elyot and Amanda, Decades After 

He thought of her as his second wife,
One he had won in later life,
A woman of the world whose history
Always retained an air of mystery.

She wasn't the girl to whom he'd tossed
His first real love in days long lost,
The girl that he could still recall
As having been his all in all.

He knew her better now, he guessed,
But often felt he knew her less.
The spaciousness of a human soul
Defies attempts to grasp it whole.

And over time it slowly expands,
Encompassing yet more extravagant lands -
A twisting, turning trail of travels,
Nearly hopeless to unravel.

Such was the surface. Beneath there was more,
Something that spun, some hot molten core,
That never really altered at all,
Keeping him locked in magnetic thrall.

CSO, Where Did All The Old People Go?

At the Chicago Symphony last night 

The usual gang of older people was nowhere in sight. 

There were lots of newcomers who violated one of the audience laws:

They gave each movement of Schumann’s symphony a big round of applause!

In rock, pop, and jazz, you clap for each song,

But somehow, for symphonic movements, it’s regarded as wrong.

It's That Time

So, why do the Germans have this fest in October?
Does September leave them feeling too sober?

 

Drizzly AM

Wet asphalt under cloudy skies 

Reflecting the glowing yellow-white eyes 

Of cars responsibly creeping 

To work when they’d rather be sleeping.

Homophonic

A scene is something that's seen. 

So, based upon what they mean, 

I thought they were related - 

But they're not, and I'm feeling deflated!

Stargazing

Jupiter’s line of moons, Saturn’s shining ring, Luna’s dusty craters - These are spectacular things, All brought here tonight To my own wondering eyes By a simple telescope Of ordinary size - A trick arrangement of glass To spread mere spots of light Into expanded images Suiting human sight.