Starpoet by Lisa Jain Thompson
Newsflash:
The StarPoet Newsletter Vol. X, No. II
 
 
Counting our way through January with a batch of poetry, some Starpoet -- Rhysling would be proud.  I seem to be be better connected to everything, more involved with the deep structure of the universe.  Come run with me into the new year.
 
 
 
Waiting for a new year
That never seems to come,
Just another railroad track
Rusted out and gone
 
Is it change yet?
 
 
 
Lisa Jain Thompson c. 2009 CE
 
 
 
 
 
 
Over at TS-Si we published The Journey of the Magi by T. S. Eliot.  I am not Eliot -- academics do not fawn over me but he has obviously influenced some of my narrative poetry.  One of the benefits of a classical education is that you read a lot of poetry (whether you want to or not).
 
 
Starting with some StarPoet
 
 
 
Earthlight Sonata
 
 

From earth to the moon
We shall return,
A practice run for Mars.
In time we will leave
This single star
To sail across the galaxy
Until the planets of Man
Are as numerous
As lovers on a moonlit shoreline.
 
 

Lisa Jain Thompson
January 2009
 
 
again the craft itself 
 
 
The Book on Poetry
 

A poet is a child who always asks why,
Who always looks under the sheets
To examine the bed bugs and the springs
That connect our loftiest aspirations
To the forest savannas from which we came.
This crayon verse, these scribbled words
That struggle to stay within these lines,
Are the unschooled learnings of a truant polymath
Playing in the ancient ruins of her recursive playground
While the neighborhood watch goes
Doo, doo doo, doo doo, doo doo, chasing UFOs.
 
 
Lisa Jain Thompson
January 2009
 
 
Men! You cant live with them and you can't:
 
 
1.  Dip them in batter for tempura,
 
2.  Use them as collateral on a loan,
 
3.  Put in new batteries.
 
 
-- Nicole Hollander, Sylvia cartoonist
 
 
the power went out on New Year's Eve
 
 
Electrical Raven with Cognac on the Side
 
Lights out tonight, the wind has found the power line,
A limb has taken vengeance on the electrical intrusion
Into its personal space; or perhaps, some aging breaker
Has voiced its objections to the wind chill as the sun fades;
Or perhaps, sadly, some stricken squirrel,
Manic with Seasonal Affective Disorder has gnawed through
The high voltage insulation with all the right intentions
And bit the big one ending both squirrel and its depression.
Meanwhile, back on the couch and carefully bundled,
The poet writes by candlelight
As Poe’s two hundredth birthday approaches.
What should one place on his gravestone to celebrate
Two centuries of continuous celebrity?
 
Lisa Jain Thompson
January 2009
 
 
so, the room was dark
 
 
 
Untried
 

New new new new,
New year, new hope,
New year same as the old,
New new new new.
New year, new chance,
New day, new sun,
New moon, blue moon,
Bomp-baba-bomp dip-da-dip.
Advanced, au currant,
Recent, fresh, and fashionable,
Unused, untouched,
Modern and redesigned.
Stop smoking, lose weight,
Get a job, get a raise,
Quite drinking, fall in love,
Go to church full of grace.
Flowers in your path,
Sunshine in your eye,
Songbirds in your ear,
A rainbow run beside.
 
Lisa Jain Thompson
January 2009
 
 
Polling the last election
 
 
 
Cohen, director of polling for The Washington Post, conducted an 2008 media exit poll to break down November's electorate by party and ideology.  This is what he found:
 
In one sense, Republicans have the larger core base -- 21 percent of voters called themselves conservative Republicans, while only 15 percent of voters saw themselves as liberal Democrats.
 
But there are many more moderate Democrats than moderate Republicans: 18 percent of all voters considered themselves moderate Democrats, while only 10 percent thought of themselves as moderate Republicans. (Five percent of voters called themselves conservative Democrats and only 1 percent called themselves liberal Republicans, who, sadly, are a dying breed.)
 
I, of course, am a conservative progressive or a progressive conservative, the preferred terms for a moderate democrat or a liberal republican.
 
Death to all wingnuts everywhere!
 
 
 
 
me and a dog
 
Woofish Behavior
 
 
I sing of the sound of coffee being made,
The sound of a dog barking as the coffee is ground,
The whir of the grinder, the rattle of the beans,
The high pitched yip of a border collie playing
One of his favorite games,
Helping his primates keep life in proper order
As they struggle to make coffee before they have caffeine.
I sing of the master of all they survey,
The Border Collie and their sense of propriety
And how things are done;
I sing of the right way and the order of the world
And a Border Collie’s idea of how to have fun;
I sing of a truly alien intelligence
That wants his hairless bipeds to join him
In all his canine games.
I sing of the feeling deep inside my brain
That we all are being tested and found so lacking
That without a Border Collie’s management skills,
He is sure his humans would be unable to feed themselves,
See something that has fallen on the floor,
Or especially, know when it is time
For all of them to go up to bed.
 

Lisa Jain Thompson
January 2009
 
 
Darwin's two hundreth is in March
 
 
Legacy at the Bicentennial
 
 
From so simple a beginning, endless forms
Evolve most eloquently and beautiful;
A simple theory, explaining all,
Tumbled god's creation down the rabbit hole
Where he shares tea with madhatters and dormice
Somewhere far outside of Kansas.
If a god is so narrow, so less than omnipotent
That to believe in him one must deny
The reality of evolution,
Perhaps he is only some local small town diety
And not the word and creator of the universe
Who knew both relativity and guantum mechanics.
 

Lisa Jain Thompson
January 2009
 
 
 
leading the news
 
 
 
Obama girls start at new school.
 
Unclear if they have used bathrooms yet.
 
 
 
-- so much for in depth reporting
 
 
 
 
a fine myth I've got myself into
 
 
My Name Is
 

A load of questionable chaos,
Deconstructed then resurrected
As some matrix laden poet,
Quick of lyric and obscurely formed phrase,
A high plains drifter who spends her life
Riding stargates to misdialed planets
Beneath star-filled skies.
Now she is here,
Now she is not,
Catch her if you can
As she courses past
On her way to destiny
And the O. K. Corral.
 

Lisa Jain Thompson
January 2009
 
 
 
 
there was this gallbladder you see ...
 
 
Aftermath
 
 
Doctor, ain't there nothin' I can take
-- Harry Nilson, Coconut
 
Every twinge, every odd pain and passing spasm
Sends me scurrying through a laundy list of symptoms
To worry if something else some place inside me
Is rapidly following my gallblader into oblivion,
Cutting short my thread before I'm ready to exit.
Does anywone know where my liver is?
Can that sharp pain be my heart?
Why am I nauseus, why does my head ache,
Is that odd looking morle deadly cancerous?
A million things to go wrong and most surely,
One of them, some day, somewhere, will kill me.
 

Lisa Jain Thompson
January 2009
 
 
It is better to have a relationship with someone who cheats on you
Than with someone who does not flush the toilet.
 
-- Uma Thurman
 
 
 
part of my history
 
 
A Major Lament for Rock and Roll

 
Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!
I'm sixty years old with a taste for rock and roll.
How can this old world ever make much sense
If the backbeat is lost and guitars are stringless?
Tell me you're coming back to me
Or there is no reason to go on,
Tell me why the moon still goes shining
When all the music has died?
Lover please, please come back,
You can't be gone, I don't believe it,
Don't leave me in this music wasteland,
I can't go on if Idol's what we have.
 
 
Lisa Jain Thompson
January 2009
 
 
finishing with StarPoet
 
 
Under Fleecy Skies
 
Our faces age without our consent -- cheek bones drop,
Skin wrinkles, hair turns gray and thins --
While safely inside our minds we stay forever young,
Except for remembering why we entered a room
Or where we put the car keys when we came in.
We have memories of staying out to half past three
But no longer know the reason we did so or why we all thought
It was such a good idea in the first place.
 
Our rock stars have now been dead for longer than they were alive,
The Kennedy children are growing older than Jack or Bobby,
Even Chelsea is almost old enough to pursue her own senate seat,
Rap and Hip Hop are more than showing their age.
 
We would live forever if our bodies did not decay,
If we did not slowly lose our ability to maintain our existence
And hit a good fastball as they say.

I would not chose eternal life if I must exchange my humanity,
That bright spark of primate evolution and ingenuity
That lets us gaze at the stars with both eyes and mind
And work the good bottom land with our hands.

 
For we have born both Shakespeare and Einstein
Bred good sweet corn and almost perfect roses,
And one fine July day with all the world watching,
We walked upon the moon on our way to Mars
And all the heavens that stretch far beyond.
 
Lisa Jain Thompson
January 2009
 
 
 
 
© Lisa Jain Thompson 1948-2009.
This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it or visit her contact page at the
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