February 2014

poem24 Feb 2014 09:54 am



This pair of human hands used to belong to
Neither da Vinci, nor Mozart, nor Napoleon
Nor Newton, nor Van Gogh, nor Thomas Edison
Nor Shakespeare, nor Doug Henning, of course nor Li Bai
Look, the blood is still dripping!

But it once warmed the heart of a frozen crow
Opened the door to a stranger starving to death
Added a handful of soil to a withering rose
Waved to a breeze blowing from nowhere
Wouldn’t it be a big fool to buy these hands?

Most important, the hands carry with them authentic spirits
Inherited from gods though still unknown to us, and the owner
Has cut them off to donate to an honorable human cause
Our initial price is set at ten hundred thousand
200, 200? 300, 300? 350, 350? 400,400?

poem17 Feb 2014 09:37 am

Pluto, By Pat Rawlings / NASA [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Pluto, By Pat Rawlings / NASA [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Icy planet, black and orange,
methane dwarf, Kuiper anomaly,
Clyde Tombaugh found you
from a hill in Flagstaff in 1930,
dancing along the edge of the universe.
Victoria Burley, an 11-year-old Oxford girl
named you after the Roman god
of a place cold and distant.
Chaotic orbiter, trans-Neptunian,
what cold comfort, self-knowledge,
what peace there must be to persist
in such refuting definition.