the baseball game for the fate of the universe

the cosmic ballplayers gathered on the unmown lawn
at the center of the galaxy overhung
with the sparkling diamonds like billions of fans
cheering by way of shimmering coruscating light
the players loped and tossed the ball in drills
warming up shagging comets
andromeda on the mound pitching with her
crazy two arm windup
the season had built to this the wins the losses
the interminable bags of sunflower seeds
spat out along ditches of the solar systems
some of the players had come up to the big show
from the farm teams on the moons of far flung nowhere planets
specks on a mote on the asshide of the whole enchilada
newton was relegated back to the minors
ball players have that fixed gaze
taking in the undulations and soul-calming repetitions of the game
watching in contemplative repose
as the world unfurls around them
the game is the crowbar of self-discovery
the process that lays bare the character
rippling under the skin of the participants
incorporating the stochastic unevenness of all endeavors
the bad bounces the atomic mischances
the shock of folly that warps the pine
that pervades the uncertain turning of events
the game is the petri dish of who we are
it’s all there ripe for the peeling open
that box to find out if not what it all means
but what’s in the box
schrodinger’s stars took the field with the
humble heaving breast
the feynman diagrams were up to bat
the universal anthem was mumbled with bravado
and the umpire carl sagan hollered play ball
it echoed over the cosmos
the ecstasy of quantum fear roiled stronger
than an electromagnetic cloud
the first batter stepped into the box
it’s einstein
he goes into his pre-pitch ritual
sticks his tongue out waggles his bat over his head
in an arc that limns the bend of the space-time continuum
the crowd loves it and the hush fell over the wide universe
the first pitch was a higgs knuckleball that danced and jiggled over the plate
einstein swung and
whiffed it like he whiffed the grand unifying theory
the elemental game commenced
on the second pitch a pulse-pounding irradiated zinger
a hit
launched for the fences in the wide parabola of success
the ball a leather-wrapped asteroid achieved escape velocity
and exited the ball park on an unhooked gravitational diaspora
heisenberg is keeping score
but the innings are endless like zeno’s halves
fermi in the press box calling the plays
it’s off to a heckuva start folks

 

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Poetry for Strangers: Sustainability

carbon jaunts
the equations of raucous ruthless rebellion
we exit the dungeon with hopes of lilacs
and fears of coal
wander far from the campfire
and the light fades before discovery begins
intrepid and stupid youth
seizing the deadly frontier
your journey has been tread
over and over innumerable times
like finches along the migratory paths
our hearts lacerations are commonplace
we are the speck in a heap of blighted pioneers
we are stardust walking among
the other clouds of big bang detritus
the cycle lifts the chin
the eyes train upon the horizon never reached
we are not long for this world
but we are long for the universe
the sustainability of this quivering
quaking consciousness rolls all around us
connecting the tender musculature of us all
words are the telephone wires zipping between us
shouts and hollers craving needs
singing the holistic attrition
squander not the intoxicating dawn

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the hetman and the thief

the crook of the universe is revealed
in the dice game between the hetman
and the thief

throw for your life thief
the one-eyed general said while
shining his cutlass

the thief smiled
you will not vanquish my people
with your form of brute justice
taborite scum

outside the tent the cossacks clamored
dancing round the fire
and hollering hussite songs
in victory over the forces of Sigismund

throw for your life rogue the general repeated
my lieutenants report you tried
to steal the calix
a dear treasure which requires a dear payment

should you catch a two or higher
your hands we lop off
now throw

the thief took up the dice cup
rolled it dreadfully between his hands
as if to start a fire of luck

finally he threw
as the die flung spinning through the air
the possibilities hovered like motes of stardust
the thief might keep his hands
but the table of chances slid hard
against it

caught between stochastic and kismet
the general and the thief stared
into each other’s eyes
for the moment of reckoning