So, I was here watching Schrödinger’s cat,
Now it’s both dead and alive:
How it has managed this, I do not know.
Somehow, though, it did contrive
So both to be and to not-be at once
Putting poor Hamlet to shame:
So the old Law of Non-Contradiction’s
Broken, and I am to blame.
So in the middle of Animal Rights
Physics, and Theater too —
I’ve violated immutable laws
What’s a poor blogger to do?
You know, it’s possible I’ll fall.
I’m trying something I’ve not tried:
But if I do, I’ll land okay,
And prob’ly only bruise
My pride
A tiny cat named Camden Yards,
At least, that’s what we call her;
She hangs out at the depot, there
Amid the noise, and squalor,
And sometimes quiet of a morn.
Where she sits still, and purring —
A tiny cat named Camden Yards,
Who monitors
Transferring
We edit constantly
The colors that we allow
To cross our eyes
The problems we will
Admit to
And the stomachs
Needing feeding
Whose voices we
Will choose
To hear
It used to be, disorder was The rule of my existence; But then I found these magic cats, And learned about persistence They taught me about liberty, And honor, and adventure: I came to realize my life Was little but indenture A bit of sallow love within A skin of pure corruption, That I'd have stayed within, except For their kind interruption Some cannot see them, so they say That this is all fantasia: Or that I am imagining, Or suffer from dysphasia One of them traveled from Saint-Priest, Another from Kamchatka, Another from South Florida, I think it's called Palatka They said my spirit had a cold And needed some ablation; As stuck as I had been within The concept of causation And so I sold my house and land, And traveled to Alsatia, To find some Gentianaceae, Perhaps some stray Sabbatia For magic herbs and remedies, And parts of geomancy, Were just a bit of what they've taught - Whatever's caught their fancy -- I travel now around the world With these three as instructors: And lead but half an orchestra Like most semiconductors If none of this makes sense to you, And seems like thought transference, Then find yourself some magic cats, And we will reach concurrence Agreement: it's the end of life, The start of life, its middle -- And every trio comes in threes, It's just part of The riddle
there’s much to fear, where’er we go,
and life will not quite go to plan:
we all survive as best we know,
and anyway we can
there’s much to worry on, and fear
is constant to us thinking lot;
the pain’s approaching – maybe here –
and sooner than we thought
there’s much to contemplate, and so,
we build our fortresses and wait;
but life comes in a farrago
to our enfeebled state
there’s much fear, and far to go
for woman, girl, for boy, for man —
we all survive as best we know,
and anyway
we can
A sentinel upon a wall,
Awake within a sleepy town;
No fear of weather, foe, or fall,
Alert for all that’s going down
The cars go by, the people pass:
But still, awaiting Fortinbras,
The guardian sits by the gates
And calmly watches on, and waits
