huggermuggery

i gave a talk recently
about the use of many models
to solve a single problem.

it kinda felt like gang warfare,
all those conspirators,
each providing his or her point of view.

that's what it feels like
to be in front of a crowd --
like you've had no sleep

and you have to fight each breath
for the last cot, the final plot
in some murder mystery.

i felt like ten little indians
were counting down
like bottles of beer on the wall,

ticking and talking about things
that i barely understand
and watching the clock

to see just what i had to skip,
to save for a future presentation.
and this was voluntary!

as sweet as ornery

as soft as loam
as vapid as foam
as rapid as nomads
as nomadic as the ocean
as oceanic as islands
as palm as fronds
as friends as fingers
as fingers as hands
as hands as some
as some as many
as many as possible
as possible as i am
as you as us
as romantic as moderne
as modern as english
as british as behaviour
as behaved as a flock
as floppy as a hat
as mad as a simile
run on like a sentence
in the middle of road.

koblenz

at the deutsche eck,
the confluence of two rivers,
the mosel and the rhein,

there is a corner of germany
of history, a monument,
an occasion to come together,

wenn ihr einig seit und treu,
under the shadow of kaiser wilhelm,
Nimmer wird das Reich zerstöret.

along the steep wineyards is kochem,
the cobbled streets and promenades
manned by a castle reconstruction,

the verbal mythology never reads
its own biography, that's past
up in the winding of river paths.

and out along the meandering valley,
burg eltz, over 800 years in the forest,
its courtyard a confluence of tourists,

this modern feudalism, the vassals
paying their lord a fealty, fidelitas,
a form of medieval realty.

in another town from another time,
in herrengasse we find fine rhein wine,
take to the hills with our bottle,

and behind that cork uncover a mystery,
a language we do not comprehend
in its limitless confluence of vowels.

lorelei

along this rock-strewn bend
in the main vein of germany,
where in historical tales
wunderbar maedchen
would sing their songs,
in their sirens flirted
with passing sailors hell-bent
on passing the time interwined
in this land of mosel wine.

now upon a jut in the land,
a rock adorned with the german flag
keeps watch over the winding
sluice where barges run loose
beneath the trees.
a stein above the rhein
an anchor of a landlocked region,
st. goar is famous for hospitality,
where sailors would spend
the night with romantic sirens
and give prayers of thanks.

now stores with steins
stretch between the alleys
and under medieval arches
raised as fortificatins
in the days before gunpowder
when sieges were the norm
this town had its own
bakery, pharmacy,
livestockery,
well, brewery,
where five hundred people
huddled to outwait their attackers.

now the snackers, the backpackers
the knick-knack trackers
have turned this region
on to a new medievalism.
fortified upon a cliff
this high-on-a-hill hamlet
as european culture frowns down
from the precipice of days past.

bmore

kids are growing up
in the shadow of gang violence
nervously joking
about the number of murders last year

not gangs that match their skin,
or gags that match the kin,
but people of an entirely different
social strata removed and unarmed

but wielding their dignity.

the kids in baltimore
are doing hard time
living in neighborhoods
they don't understand

across the railroad tracks
in converted duplexes
triplexes, quadplexes
town and single family homes

paying too much for too little.

trapped in the ratrace
these kids are in over their heads
shielding themselves
from the eventual collapse

of the marketing companies
with their online dealings
and other stealing of their dignity
the ignominity of anonymity.

working too much for too little.

these kids have asbestos-laden
walls exposed in their basements,
live frustrated lives
in suburban tenements.

across the country, i have moved
myself well away, but i am no different,
staying up all night with a chisel,
sculpting out one moment at a time.

making too much but too little.

one bloody happy day

perhaps this day
was the happiest
in all of human
memory.

perhaps this day
was the culmination
of international
cooperation.

perhaps this day
was a day of release
after 60 million died
in fields and bunkers,
but most died in their homes.

perhaps this day
was a day of finding
mass graves and bodies,
but also living beings,
emaciated.

this day was definitely
a day to remember.
august 14th, 1945.

inishmore

peat farmers
are spreading the hay
by hand
anticipating rain
inishmore

the british
pushed the irish west
of their own isle
onto the aran isles.

sent away,
galway
town of the foreigners
12th century

and then the
dispossessed british
inside or out
of exclusive
ferries and selves,

british overlords
the heritage surviving
in tiny pockets
of ruined wall
the central park

the river corrib
runs through the center
of the town,
the fishermen
take turns in waders

casting their lures
beneath colorful facades,
the youthful crowds,
university.

the many dark centuries
of souls gathered
are layered like the soil,
ignite todays fires
in the young country
with so much history.

dad was

dad was
    half a thousand things
    before the wedding ring
    encircled his square
    he'd been everywhere

dad was
    ten thousand things
    he had shown to me
    without ever being there
    like pupping a tent alone

dad was
    a million things
    wanted to say to him
    and now in review
    saw aloud but a few

dad is
    dead as dust
    calm as ash
    living and well
    in my sleeping cell

prediction

Prediction is very difficult, especially about the future.
-- Niels Bohr

So many mathematicians
statisticians,
and beauticians
devote their working
hours to prediction.

Any why is it so important
to know the future?
Is there really so much fear
to be unarmed, now and here?

Half the work of statistics
half again logistics
and still more combinatorial
effort into gubernatorial
predilection.

Instead let's embrace Mandelbrot,
stretch our heads and arms out wide,
let us stand outside under the stars
and ask the world for a surprise.