poetry reading 2

I promised several people that I would repost this; I will also do a Facebook invitation.


I am pleased to announce that I plan to do my first poetry reading at the Atlas Coffee Company, 300 South A St, Ste 4 Santa Rosa on Wednesday, January 31st. Doors open at 6PM; readings start around 6:45

A Brief Foray into Politics

I was speaking the other day before a group of people that I hadn’t known for very long about the need for a new constitutional convention. I advanced the opinion that the flaws that have become obvious in our governmental structure – the disproportionate representation for rural areas, the electoral college, the ludicrous notion that corporations are people, the disproportionate share of influence that goes to the wealthy, just to name a few – are as serious now as the flaws in the Articles of Confederation were in the 1780’s.

The reaction I received surprised me – “Why,” I was asked, “Isn’t anybody talking about this?” My audience hadn’t thought about the issue, because no one was raising the question.

Somewhat reluctantly, I have begun to put my mind around it.  It’s a good question, and the answer has a lot to do with the corrosive effects of the chemical reaction between modern technology, money, and the gullibility of the average citizen. In the coming weeks, I will have more to say about this issue, and we shall see where it leads me.

Hermits and the Internet

The Hermit

The hermit, huddled on the hill,
Tries, by exercise of will,
To do away with loneliness.
Yet he is a hermit still.

His aged hands, beridged by time,
Are streaked with blood, and dust, and grime.
(The cuts are wrapped without success.)
All this the fruit of his weary climb.

Down there, the village whence he came,
Where once, a woman knew his name…
But all of that was long ago..
And yet, it matters, just the same..

Now time and tide have passed him by,
And he hasn’t tear enough to cry.
Henceforward he will stay away,
He wants them all to wonder why.

The concept of a hermit seems to have faded from the public consciousness.  When I wrote the poem above  ( I was 19 or 20) , the image of a hermit — always male, always dressed in rags — who lived in a cave, apart from society, was quite common.  My poem imagined  a man who had separated himself from the world because he was disappointed in love, but the more common concept of a hermit was of someone who had withdrawn from the world to ponder the secrets of the Universe.  The hermit was thought of as a kind of Oracle, to which a pilgrimage could be made to find answers to Life’s most pressing questions.

So why has the hermit faded from our imaginations?  Part of the answer is the Internet — Google is a kind of Oracle; all questions can be answered (or appear to be answered) by a Google search.

Another part of the answer is, I think, mankind’s evolving consciousness.  There is a theory that our  consciousness is evolving rapidly — rapidly, that is, in evolutionary terms.  The idea is that, say, a thousand years ago or so, mankind thought with a kind of hive mentality; everyone knew their place in the system.  Then, as the functions of our left and right brains became more distinct, we began to think for ourselves.  The obvious next evolutionary step is for us to begin to be able to read each other’s minds.  We have all experienced the sense that certain other people seem to know what we are thinking before we say it, and we should get used to that feeling; it will only get stronger as we continue to evolve.

In short, then, we don’t need hermits because we have the Internet.  And, soon, we won’t need the Internet because we have each other.

Reflections on Time

Reflections on Time

This is the first of a series of brief essays that expand upon the ideas expressed in my poems. Let me begin with a poem:

Time’s Fools

Time is the Master that controls us all.
What was, is. What will be, was.
We are all Time’s Fools,
Who clown and caper as it passes by

All of Time exists.
We have but a little bit of it,
To hug, and hold, and do kind deeds.
Our piece of Time, of course, must have a stop,
So let’s begin.

Time is truly our master, but it is also our window, our small and cloudy window into the profound mysteries we can never comprehend.

Most people think of me as irreligious, and in the sense that most people use the word religion, I am. But I have a spiritual and philosophical side. For me, Gödel’s Theorem holds the key to how we should think of the immense vastness that is beyond our ken. Gödel proved that (to simplify a bit) for any given system there exist propositions that cannot be understood from within that system.

For me, that is it exactly – we must accept the fact that there are things we cannot know, mysteries we cannot solve. Consider the strange mystery of Time. It is one if the fundamental properties of the Universe. In that sense, Time is static and eternal. But as we live our lives, it seems as though we move through it at an ever-increasing pace. Time feels dynamic.

I cannot resolve this contradiction, and perhaps I have no need to do so. These days, the only quality that seems real is decay – the decay of our bodies, of our minds, of our civilization.

My hope is that, in some mysterious way (that word again!), I exist simultaneously in a multitude of universes, in some of which, at least, I do not make the same mistakes. But that is probably wishful thinking. I suspect that Time will stop for me at some point in the not distant future, and my regrets will not matter.

That’s why I say – Begin!


Death’s Blue-Eyed Boy

My father was certain
What would happen.
“Like snuffing out a candle,” he’d say.
“Like turning out all the lights in the world at once.”

I have a different take on death:
I think I’ll pass
Into an alternate universe,
Where I’ll get another chance
To do it right.

Poetry Reading

I am pleased to announce that I plan to do my first poetry reading at the Atlas Coffee Company, 300 South A St, Ste 4 Santa Rosa on Wednesday, January 31st.  Doors open at 6PM; readings start around 6:45



Feeling foolish, imbecilic,
Clutching flowers in his hand,
He somehow marshals, like a brave boy,
All the courage at his command.
Knocks quite softly, taps the doorbell,
Dreads the moment she appears
If he leaves now, before she answers,
He won’t confront his deepest fears.

The door is open, she regards him
With a pleasant, puzzled air.
He thrusts the flowers out before him
As if to show why he is there.
Then from within him, he is saying
The words he tried so long to hide,
Words he’d practiced, nine times over,
Until they could not stay inside:
“I love you madly, I will love you
Until all life is at an end.”

With a smile, she passes sentence:
“I shall want you for a friend.”