WYSIWYG or IS NOT Or My E-holiday Card to Friends

Up in the sky, upon the ground

the claws of Saint Nic

deep in the minds of children found.

Giving gifts of toys despite

all we read 'bout the speed of light.

So how can he belong to all

and amongst all a delight?

To the masses here while to the masses there

doth he jets in his underwear?

No, me thinks this and me thinks that

tis 'bout say, a quantum bit more;

some thing we have yet to set store

in our compendium… pray stay,

of learn-ed truth,

superposition is, for sooth.

All these places and all these times

initiated, a blink,

and… gone.

Be still and consider anon:

No speed measured, no sled seen.

Where none can see and none can guess

just how fast St. Nic is.

So by laws of science he can

be,

in all places one, two, three.

A simple answer yet complex

Quantum superposition is

my best guess.

THIS AIN’T THE CIRCUS OF THE SUN

Grandma clams a laugh, yet escapes a sigh

Remembering well times gone bye

Her daughter’s answer years ago

Similar acts tonight, so apropos:

“What have I always said?

What DON’T we want to do tonight?”

And

(You know that Grandparental taciturn silenced stare)

To that first question raised above,

A silence with falsely pondered thought,

and

For a second,

And then,

Replied with a smile, with a grin:

“The house is not a jungle gym?”

“And so what else have you to say?”

Grandma knows the one that answers first looses face,

So taciturn silence follows hence.

Deep thought’s silence again…though we know

They know,

and

that we know they know,

And then,

staccato’s laughing refrain:

“Let’s-not-visit-the-emergency-room-again?”

As if to reinforce the admonition

Adding to the loco-motion

Through the air the little one flies

Smiling all the while glides

From the fifth step high

Into the arms of her big sister crashing slides.

Grandma clamps a laugh, escapes a sigh.

To the kitchen for some pie.”

“Stop! Enough! Or I may die.

The end

EVERY NOW & THEN

The one in many,
the self in it all,
the self as it is here today, the individual
felling unconnected.
But in reality is part of the whole,
As it is on a greater scale.
Beyond all imagination.
Seen only a curtain pull away
A keyhole look fills the mind beyond
comprehension, realized 4^th dimension

This It-Is, we all breathe together.
I feel you; feel we all feel
communicate-touched-instantaneous
knowledge of, non-local quantum weirdness.

I have that memory,
that experience, and I forget it most of this time,

only to stop;
Aha, yes with a laugh of recognition
I recall-remember-fell/felt it back there,
then,
the totality of IT-IS.

Words do it not justice.
I don’t know what to call it.

QBITS

One bit, Two bits, Three bits

and… QBITS?

Quantum based talking stardust.

We can’t be the only experiment.

September/October poem

Autumn , rain, a hurricane might be approaching

I sit with a watered down glass of wine

An orange cat and a book of poems.

HOME INSPECTION

The house not old, but creaking.

The constructing quality? Oh so sadly lacking.

Looking up, is the ceiling leaking?

****

The rain was strong, the siding rattling-shaking-swaying.

Did the water underneath get blown then seep

into-onto the not so dry wall there above me leak?

The insurance will not pay, for damages done this way.

To my store room a ladder grabbed

 and to the ceiling my finger stabbed

and it.. must… be… said,

not watching ladder height, up the steps I took hasty flight

 with a bang and a bump as I looked up

oh my head,

intimately met the ceiling’s top.

And yet to my relief, though pain up on my head

was not such fun and that can too be said,

Just dust bunnies and nasty nail pops

and down the ladder I was carefully led.

Quantum Mechanics on Strike

My I-pad won’t work and I ain’t no jerk.

My screen stopped scrolling, and my keyboard’s corroding.

My FiOS and bios are fried.

Quantum Mechanics on strike!

As for craft in the heavens and jets that fly,

that fly by wire and computer alighted?

Just tumble, down from the sky.

Quantum Mechanics on Strike!

An approach broached, grounded and not theoretical.

Controlled-through by digital, your autos mechanical,

now crashing, bashing and thoroughly smushed.

Quantum Mechanics on Strike!

QED and Maxwell’s equations,

the keys to  life’s situations?

Quantum Mechanics on Strike!

An end as you know it.

To the 19th century, or earlier?

You’ll go it!

Quantum Mechanics on Strike!

Still got gravity’s push

It ain’t all that much.

But without it, good-bye tush.

Quantum Mechanics on Strike!

We want parity with reality.

No spin around, no up, and no down.

No lucky charms or Feynman yarns.

A union with relative’s theology!

Quantum Mechanics on Strike!

It may take some work.

We know you’re not jerks.

We’re not diabolical,

just quantum mechanical.

So give us the same:

relativity’s unity claimed.

Quantum Mechanics on Strike!

The End