StarPoet Newsletter Vol. XIII, No. II

Saturday, 07 January 2012 20:00 Last Updated on Saturday, 07 January 2012 20:51

The StarPoet Newsletter
Vol. XIII, No. II (January 8, 2012 C.E.)

Warm day. Cool Day. Frigid Day. Warm. The weather doth confuse the earth.

We apes,
We conscious primates,
Sisters and brothers all,
Must admit our bloodlines
And embrace our family
Or surely we'll be left
With only our memories
Of Christmas Past.

Lisa Jain Thompson c. 2012 C.E.


And we're off. They're neck and neck as they approach straightaway. Now if only the Iranians will behave.

ogden nash perhaps
Home
I got home And that's all that matters, No matter how many miles I walked, No matter how many years slipped by, I got home and I'm staying here Until I make an ash of myself.
— Lisa Jain Thompson (January 2012)

What you notice, wherever, in the wild or captivity, is teeth getting worn down, the body getting shrunken, losing its gloss; instead of being glossy black, it becomes brown gray. Their eyes become sunken. Their movement gets slower. They tend to get more solitary. They tend to move away from excited groups. -- Jane Goodall describing Chimp aging

the third member of our family
Cedar in the Fog
It is foggy outside, The thin, misty stuff that reminds you Of morning before breakfast on a mountainside Just after the sun has broken above the peaks; The border collie stares wistfully into the distance, Remembering all the times he herded sheep Before the stroke slowed his world and made this all So much more difficult for him, Before every bone and muscle struggled against arthritis; He is here today and I am here, By the end of next summer we will both know so much more And I may be holding Sharon as we make that last phone call, Tears flowing from our eyes, our hearts aching At the approaching emptiness buried in our memories.
Lisa Jain Thompson (January 2012)

fashion
Winter into Autumn
The rain falls from winter into the autumn air, Splashing coolly upon my face, Splattering haphazardly off my umbrella. Perhaps I should have worn something warmer Than the carefully tailored jacket That goes so well with my blouse and pants. But that would be too much like grade school When my mother would send me off well wrapped: Given the choice between dry and stylish, I would be wet most always. — Lisa Jain Thompson (January 2012)

Here is where you notice a huge difference in an old male and an old female. Old females have no real menopause. They continue to have a baby every five years. Even when she is very old, she has her youngish child. It's the tragedy of having no menopause. The last child is likely to die because the mother is too old to provide proper nutrition. -- Jane Goodall describing Chimp aging

and the view beyond near space orbit?
A Chance of Snow
A chance of snow in the outlying areas, Somewhere between the western edge of the Shenandoah And possibly Harrisburg in Pennsylvania; Although the weather map at times, Seems to include Cleveland, New York, And the Barrier Islands down to Hatteras: If you can see it from the satellite, Consider it well within the neighborhood; The size of your area, of course, depends On the distance of the satellite taking the picture.
Lisa Jain Thompson (January 2012)

Most of the chimps in the wild don't live to be that old. An old male can be very lonely. Some old males make very close bonds. Very often you get a couple of old guys hanging out and grooming each other. -- Jane Goodall describing Chimp aging

my friend in the next cubicle suddenly began loosing his peripheral vision ...
The Announcement
1. The announcement at a meeting, Mr. Dylan has been in an accident, Last night, no details, But he's in the hospital Dying or getting better. 2. This is an accident: The radio, the weather, The cars around you, A moment of intense interest, Then darkness Until you awake Somewhere other than your car Or you do not and no longer care. I have always awakened; I have memories of those Who did not.
Lisa Jain Thompson (January 2012)

modern life
Workshopping
It's a shame we no longer workshop life Before we throw ourselves upon the world; Family used to perform this function -- Grandparents, parents, aunts and uncles, Supplemented by church and classroom. We don't do that any more, Don't want to restrict our children's opportunities Or crush their developing egos under the demands Of society and responsibility, Workshopping is just so nineteenth century.
-- Lisa Jain Thompson (January 2012)

Everybody. You're more beloved by the males. You're not scared. You know all the tricks. You are very popular. You quite like it. But remember, we don't see very old females. Most wild chimps don't live more than 50 years. -- Jane Goodall describing who's mating with older female chimps

observation
The Year
The year doesn't feel any different, A little grayer, perhaps, A little less like a party And more like a Sunday football game Complete with penalties For excessive celebration. More parades! More fireworks! More aspirin please.
Lisa Jain Thompson (January 2012)

upbringing
Decoration Day
The decorations should go up On my mother's birthday in mid-December And not be taken down until The three kings arrive at the manger; I am as sure of this as I am That the gods do not exist, For while my mother spoke to me often, The gods have chosen to ignore me; I do not expect a personal revelation Anymore than my dead mother texting me On my Android.
— Lisa Jain Thompson (January 2012)

In captivity, the oldest one is right near the age where I am now. She's at least 74. She's called Little Mama. There are two really old females in the wild. Old Flo, who was definitely over 50 when she died. She had a sort of menopause. She got so frail. Her last child died. She was accompanied all the time by her 8-year-old son. She was never alone. -- Jane Goodall describing older female chimps

ongoing preparations
Blue White Sky
Blue white sky bright across the evergreen, A wisp of cloud more imagined than visible, All the squirrels are out hoping the neighbors Have sunflower and peanuts for breakfast and, Failing that, I might offer them walnuts Which represent more work but bury better Should the squirrels become hungry before The daffodils and tulips arrive.
— Lisa Jain Thompson (January 2012)

back then.
*The Long Hot Summer* During the long hot summers of my childhood, When the evening Carquinez would cool the central valley, We would play each night until the sky grew dark, Catching flyballs and stopping grounders by sound and instinct Honed by a thousand games played on our makeshift diamond. Ten foot of oxidizing steel topped with barbed wire Protected the public swimming pool as our left field fence, Centerfield was twice that far and right rolled on forever But we played second over and aimed for the pool Where a home run was measured by a batter's quick climb. I was eleven, almost twelve, the first time I hit one, My coordination finally catching up with my body, I can't describe the memory, the surge of emotion, I was no longer the kid with the misfunctioning muscles, No longer the last one to ever be chosen, I could hit.
— Lisa Jain Thompson (January 2012)
The other one is a female called Sprout. And the most lovely story about Sprout is when her fully adult, magnificent son, Satan, was 23 years old, he threatened a young male because he wanted to take over the fruit bunch on a tree. So the young male moved away and screamed. The young male's older brother heard his brother scream, swung from a tree and both of them attacked Satan. And bounding through the branches came this ancient female, all shrunken, weighing half of the three males, dropped onto the three fighting males and with her tiny, little frail hands, starting hitting away at the brothers and chased them away. That was Satan's old mother. -- Jane Goodall describing older female chimps


Copyright © Lisa Jain Thompson 1948-2012. Back issues are in the Newsletter Section of the StarPoet website. Visit my contact page and get in touch.