StarPoet Newsletter Vol. XII, No. IX

Between here and Andromeda
A hundred billion stars interweave,
Untold planets and civilizations
Inside alone our Milky Way,
Orbiting a galaxy's singular black heart
Until all the fires burn out
And we slip into the dark waters
Of eternal oblivion once more.

Have you ever been caught out on a desert alone
Surrounded only by Joshua Trees and Jack Rabbits?
Have you ever watched a sunset with a boy of your choice
As the star's bright fire sinks into Pacific blue?

I have never exceeded the speed of sound,
The speed of light is well beyond my lifetime,
But I have seen the moon reflect off Lake Tahoe
And Halley's Comet return without Mark Twain.

I have stayed in base housing and multi-room suites,
Battled cockroaches, mice and geckos for the right to my bed,
But I've never stopped watching or put down my pen
Or been bedded by Matt Damon or Johnny Depp.

Power down with a big ker-plop,
No smoke, no fire, no electricity,
One moment there was light
The next, God said no no, and there
Was darkness across the void.

Snow and ice transform to cool cold water,
Drip roof and branch to the earth below,
Reforming once more fresh frozen slickness
On sidewalk, on asphalt, on curb, on highway,
No powerlines, no coffee, only Jameson straight up.

Our cellphones are working,
Cordless landlines are down,
Hours of communication yet
Before the world will grow dark.

The cable is long gone,
Copper wire or fiber optics,
The sun moves relentlessly
Above the clouds towards sunset.

Music plays on the Android,
Vince Guaraldi Dexter Gordon,
Later perhaps some Fogarty,
Taylor Swift or Kanye West.

Words remain unaffected,
Conversation can still go on,
My pen has ink and paper,
My wife, a world class brain.

I'm in the vortex, note and silence,
A column having born for computer,
Grasping at ideas the poet can capture
In swiftly well written quatrains.

The non-avian dinosaurs must have thought
They'd rule this lush planet forever and a day,
Such was their majesty and unquestioned power,
Then it ended at Hells Creek
And only the chickens and sparrows remained
To watch the mammals do what mammals will do
Until we too come unstuck from time and space.

There is no one more concerned about your health
Than a dog jonesing for his dinner or a
Scratch of your hand between the ears on his head,
Or so noble, unquestioning, and pure of heart
When he risks his life in a moment's decision to save yours;
I would rather have one good dog
Than ten thousand Facebook Friends,
Even if he cold noses you when you try to get dressed.

Ma Rainey, Ethel Waters,
Bessie Smith, then Lady Blue,
Etta James, Alberta Hunter
And Big Mama Thornton,
All women done wrong by their man;
Heady competition for a poet warrior
Whose only voice is her words.
Tough luck, poet, but at least
You can be appreciated without
A home entertainment center,
Needing only a kindle or a pad
And a bright, inquiring mind
To bring you back to life.

I cry for Cedar, alive and well,
Knowing that within the decade,
He will have become my memory.
How many years -- five?  seven?
Can possibly be left for us to share?
I cry not so much that he must die,
For we all at sometime surely must,
But that his mistress cannot save him
As he has saved us, nor do little more
Than ease his passage from our world,
The single last gift that love demands:
As he would not have me ever suffer,
I would not let him die alone in pain,
Wondering where his mistress went.

When I have a cold,
I write little,
For even the brightest muse
Finds little new
In a head full stuffed with sinuses.

The Great Squirrel King finds me mute
As he scurries from tree to nest,
His sleek black fur fills a wind shaken limb
While I sneeze encouched inside,
Safe from the single digit windchill
That discomforts primates and poets,
But not, apparently, the Squirrel King.

The daughter of my blood and body,
An olive skined middle-child now well grown,
Apparently decided to have her appendix
Turn gangrenous after years of unselfish service;
A few slices and snips and the enemy was vanished,
Following her tonsils into eternal oblivion,
By the time she is ninety who knows what
Organs may be missing and replaced with new?