MAGIC BOSON MASS

Magic Boson Mass

(Upon reading in Wikipedia about Higgs Bosons)

(In honor of the people of Libya, 08-21-2011)

You are not clay for my hands
I am not clay for yours

I can not write a constitution to make you clay for me
I can not make a law to make you clay for me
I can not incorporate to make you clay for me
I can not create a clever strategy to make you clay for me but

If you are willing
I can pretend you are clay for me long enough
To convince you long enough
To hurt you

If you are willing
I can hurt you long enough
To convince you long enough
To give up

Despots rise from us
We create them
From the power we use
To create heroes

Whatever is done and said
You are not clay
I am not clay

The Maker who made us
The Dervish galaxy spinner
The Boson magic mass maker who

Made foolish clay manipulators
Made clever clay to manipulate clay manipulators
Even made more clever clay to refuse to be clay

There will always be
Fools
Heroes
Despots
Despot financers
Fools paying attention to despots
Fools fighting despots

Lots of fighting fools

Good ideas bleeding in to clay
In India wearing homespun
In Memphis on the mountaintop
Good clay just trying to learn from the children
Good clay just trying to lead the children

Who will rise again from the clay some day
With magic boson mass some day
To become the power
We already have

THE PLACE I WILL BE WHEN I DIE

The Place I Will Be When I Die
(02-07-99)

The creek
Ran down to the Olentangy
I suppose
Miles away

The trees were young
In the bed
I can see the shiny bark

The sun filtered through
But the creek
Ran between cool treed hillsides

The hill on one side
Rose from creek side
Up to where the dead abandoned sheep
Moved back into the earth

The hill on the other
Rose slow
To just as high
Then a fence
Soy beans, corn or wheat or resting

I built dams

The air
Of nakedness
Before erections
Before shame

I could run
Jiggle my hips
And breasts
In a dance that was only mine

I needed a pool

To ask the water
To wait
For me
To have a place
To be

Play
Languorously in the pool

The water cold
On my bare skin
Clear

Enough to
Pretend the shifting of shapes

Enough to
Become who I was
Not who I appeared to be
Was supposed to be

When the end
Comes to me

You don’t have to do a thing

I will be there
The creek
Running to the Olentangy

My place to
Move back into the earth

Shifting shape again