Saturday, August 6, 2022

Contagion

 
The abstract axe chips away at fallacy,
The dynamite drug unearths new thoughts, 
The shimmer of truth is hewn into language,
The infection spreads.

Some sicken, some strengthen, 
In some it evolves and devolves again.
Some make poor hosts, others foster children,
Some birth, some adopt.

My progeny are numerous.
My disease has spread far.
It is all I have.

And yet -- is it not all we all have?

Thursday, July 21, 2022

Theirs is a world

Theirs is a world I shall not know;
        A lusty glance from darkened eyes,
        A knowing smile speaking lies,
        The mutual beckon of selfish thighs.

Theirs is a world they will not show;
        The curtain veiling smoke and mirrors,
        The tribes united planting fears,
        A funeral filled with muted cheers.

Theirs is a world I can’t let go;
        The never-ending cocaine nights,
        The sex-stained clothes and passionate fights,
        The feeling that this must be right.

Theirs is a world I need to know;
        Yet mine is a world I must keep too,
        And mine is a world they wish they knew,
        And ours is a world of worlds unglued.

Friday, November 4, 2011

The Sound of Science

After writing this I searched youtube and discovered that this has already been done twice... one is about Darwin and the other is by the Beastie Boys.

-----------------------------------

                      Hello dark room, my old friend
                      I've brought my western here again
                      This time my protein's not degraded
                      This time the signal's not yet faded
                      And the bands will stand out like a yellow fly
                      With white eyes
                      And shine the sound of Science

                      In LTL I walk alone
                      Cultures still have not yet grown
                      Giving up I return to home
                      My pain is growing like a new genome
                      But then I turn around and from Wawa I buy hoagies
                      and two coffees
                      To fuel the sound of Science

                      And on the cover slip I saw
                      ten thousand cells or maybe more
                      Cells dividing without splitting
                      Cells dividing without quitting
                      Cells secreting hormones that others will not use
                      And then they fused
                      And grew the sound of Science

                      "Fools", said I, "You do not know
                      My thesis like a cancer grows
                      Read my words that I might teach you,
                      Read your mail that I might reach you"
                      But my pleas, like a senior thesis fell
                      And landed
                      On the shelves of Science

                      And at last I bowed and prayed
                      For a thesis real or fake
                      Then the words of a distant cry
                      Echoed down from a young PI
                      And the voice said "the path to a paper is high-throughput cancer stem cells,
                      not a gel."
                      And it spoke with the sounds of Science.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

A series of awkward metaphors (or Modern poetry)

                      He shot me
                      with his eyes as I waited on the street corner
                      for the red light to turn green
                      with a plastic CVS bag
                      cradling half a gallon of milk and a box of tampons.
                   
                      The smoke cleared
                      from my eyes and I saw him diffuse into the atmosphere
                      of our local tavern happy hour.
                   
                      We mixed red wine with our hearts
                      And devoured each cup like thirsty grad students.
                      I told him how he shot me
                      and he offered to show me his gun-
                      I told him that the light was still red.
                   
                      "We both want the same thing,"
                      he whispered into my eyes,
                      but personally I thought it was the other way around.
                   
                      His bed looked just like a frozen waterfall
                      and felt about the same.
                      But before long the bed was singing,
                      the song was sweating,
                      the sweat was pulsing,
                      the pulse was bleeding,
                      the blood was smelling,
                      the smell was tasting
                      the taste was icing,
                      the ice was melting.
                   
                      And when we fell apart
                      like two used kitchen sponges, wrung together then carelessly tossed aside,
                      I gazed down at my weary carcass
                      and thought to myself
                      "Fuck. I left the milk out."

Sunday, September 25, 2011

The Ballad of Unrequited Rhymes

This works best if you read it out loud.

---------------------------

                       Come gather 'round, friends, and listen to my song,
                       It's 'bout a girl named Marie, who never did right.
                       It's a story most tragic, but it ain't very slow,
                       And it'll bring you to tears sure as the sun shines photons.

                       Her father did toil on a Nebraskan corn field,
                       And his pain and his sorrow, he kept them out of sight.
                       And when Marie was nearby, he kept his lips closed,
                       And after slaving all day, he'd lie awake through the dark.

                       But now his eyes did grow dim, and the days hurried fast,
                       And he knew that his vision for long couldn't remain.
                       And for his fate, it seemed, the die was already thrown,
                       And his labors would likely be lost all in ineffectualness.

                       His son might have helped, and lifted the weight,
                       but his kidneys were failing in a cruel twist of life.
                       Their income too little, for surgery costs so high,
                       Father only could sob at the grave of his spouse.

                       Now when Marie turned twelve, there was no celebration.
                       She merely prayed to the Lord and asked for a gift
                       'Twas not for money, nor food, but an organ donor.
                       Yet as her brother grew worse, her plans did change.

                       On the eve of that Christmas, she poured her thoughts on a note.
                       In her brother's stocking she left it, and this is what she composed.
                       "This ship is fast-sinking, and I cannot tread water,
                       Its hull is fast-flooding, and it cannot be patched.

                       But with these gifts that I offer, you'll float without fail:
                       At once all a sealant, plank, hammer and screws.
                       (Just to be clear, dear brother, what I mean in particular,
                       is that my kidneys are now both yours to transplant)."

                       When her father found her the next morning, convulsed on the floor,
                       near an empty bottle of endosulfan, he knew without doubt
                       that she'd drank the dread poison and was gone forever hereafter,
                       and he cried right beside her till he almost passed into unconsciousness.

                       Now three days later Marie's brother finally found her note,
                       And the words struck into his heart like lightning flashes.
                       And with his mouth all agape and voice collapsed in his throat
                       he slowly turned his gaze to the urn with her ashes.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

My first and last haiku

                       Haikus are a joke
                       unless they're in Japanese;
                       pig and I spring rain.

Life Passes

This may have been more fun to write than it is to read.

---------------------------
                       Life passes
                       Never slow
                       People come
                       And people go

                       Snow turns to rain
                       Rain turns to snow
                       People come
                       And people go

                       Foe becomes friend
                       Friend becomes foe
                       People come
                       And people go


                       Life passes
                       People go
                       People come
                       And friend becomes foe

                       Never slow
                       Snow turns to rain
                       People go
                       And people come

                       People come
                       Rain turns to snow
                       Foe becomes friend
                       And people go


                       Life passes
                       Friend becomes foe
                       People go
                       And rain turns to snow

                       People go
                       Never slow
                       People come
                       And foe becomes friend

                       People come
                       Snow turns to rain
                       People come
                       And people go


                       Life passes
                       Rain turns to snow
                       People come
                       And snow turns to rain

                       Friend becomes foe
                       People go
                       Foe becomes friend
                       And people come

                       People go
                       Never slow
                       People come
                       And people go


                       Life passes
                       Snow turns to rain
                       Foe becomes friend
                       Never slow

                       Rain turns to snow
                       Friend becomes foe
                       People come
                       And people come

                       People come
                       People go
                       People go
                       And people go


                       Life passes
                       Never slow
                       People come
                       And people go