| Starpoet Newsletter Vol IX, No. XXIII |
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| Written by Lisa Jain Thompson | |
| Saturday, 07 June 2008 | |
 The Starpoet Newsletter
Volume IX, No. XXIII Bobby Died
Forty years this week I cried
I cried
And still I cry For myself and everyone
Who has ever thought Their world has ended
Only to wake with strength
To somehow struggle on Despite the bright focus Of timeless memory
 Lisa Jain Thompson C. 2008 C. E.
 
Meanwhile, in medical news
The Cat In The Box
Sitting here, I feel nothing,
Neither pain nor lump, But have a week to wait Until I am reshot; A week to know I have no family history, My breasts are small but dense, And I can do nothing but wait Until the time is ripe And everything is revealed. For now,
I think of all the reasons I should not worry, Double checking the appointment Is seven days from now, Not tomorrow, Reassuring myself that there is Nothing more that can be done To reassure me: The die is already cast. In the real world in which we live,
The cat is either alive or already dead, And we still won’t open the box Until next Monday. Lisa Jain Thompson
June 2008 a wonderful monday morning
Synchless
Morning was out of rhythm, Harder than it should be; I barely made it through my make-up And then forgot my earrings. I was lucky to make it to the metro
(And remember to get off at my stop), By the time I got it together it was lunch time, Followed by a meeting, then a meeting, then home. Tomorrow I will remember my earrings (I hope),
But I might, just might, misplace my head. Lisa Jain Thompson
June 2008 Bo Diddley
1928-2008 I'm a man,
I spell M-A-N...man. Bomp-a-bomp-a-bomp. Bomp-bomp.
starpoet
Memories of the
Lisa Jain Thompson June 2008 Call me after there are news items reporting
female athletes jailed for engaging in dog-fighting or arrested in strip club shootings. LJT
starpoet, more or less
Proper Lorentz Transformations
The waters rise, the waters fall,
The automobile she come full stop On the highway, on the interstate Near the oil well, by the president. The sun will set, the sun may rise,
Tomorrow we live, today we die; My sins forgiven, a saint I’ll be, Jesus hisself be proud of me. A starful of heaven, crossly lit,
Two hands of comet, earthward dropping, Three sprays of galaxy, brightly twisting, Turning planet, blue scented rose aflame. Lisa Jain Thompson
June 2008 more commuting
Two-Thirds
Two-thirds asleep I drive
To the station where I make connection To a ride on the bright morning rail Into the face of armed automatic guards Who are the visible Plan B For the badges and coded readers. Morning came very early today
And seems to want to linger, Lunch is still hours away But fast becoming The sharply growing focus Of my stomach’s attention. Lisa Jain Thompson
June 2008  Robert F. Kennedy
diversion #1
Exchanges If you don’t, you’re a prude;
If you do, you’re a slut. -- The Breakfast Club Did you do it? Did you do it? Did you, did you do it? How old were you, when you did,
If you did, did do it? Thirteen? Twenty?
Anyone Eleven? Or were you Thirty,
Two decades wondering If you’d ever? Inboard, outboard, backboard, bordello,
If you do it, if you do it, If you do it. If you don’t,
I don’t think I want to know; If you don’t,
What say you we do lunch tomorrow? What say you, if you don’t?
Lisa Jain Thompson
June 2008 diversion #2
Magic Wands
Antonio Banderos, George Clooney, Brad Pitt,
I find myself anything but revolutionary -- Quite conventional all in all -- Connery, Gable, and Eastwood When I feel like someone older; Chiwetel Ejiofor and McDreamy When a taste of youth will do it. But if I had to chose one, right at this moment,
For ever and a day, I would like to hold House in my arms tonight And ease his troubles away. Lisa Jain Thompson
June 2008  the weather outside
This Foul Night
Thunder explosion
Directly overhead, Slamming the house Like a B-52 Laying down hell Along the tree line. Rumble of earth
As the sky falls down, Rattle of windows Just this side of broke, Stressing the bejeezus Out of the dog. Lisa Jain Thompson
June 2008 As Told By Gene Weingarten
A guy goes to the doctor. The doctor says,
"You've got to stop masturbating."
The guy asks why. The doctor says,
"Because I'm trying to examine you."
observations
That’ll Be The Day
Women forgive, men move on
-- Genetic engineering injects Exquisite wrenches into the engines Of the best intentioned equality. The devil you say!
What great satan would trick us so, To raise our expectations to such lofty levels, Then gives us our all too human flesh That links us to our most ancient biologies Despite our sometimes best intentions? What charlatan would deny
That snakes sometimes bite us dead; What child believe In Cinderellas and Prince Charmings After a weekend at a singles bar? What say you tell your daughters
To expect boys to act like girlfriends, Sharing gossip and braiding hair During platonic, nongamic sleepovers. No mention of panties, on or off,
No word of pregnancy, effect and cause; No whisper of desire or erect anticipation, No hint of hot urges unconcerned with procreation. What say you, will you tell your daughters
To go forth and trust all comers, That the rules of the game, the male gaze, Are the same for both men and women? A woman may become a scientist,
An astronaut, and someday president, But never will with cold dispassion Insert herself into life and soul And never call again. Lisa Jain Thompson
June 2008
in the midst of lethargy
Shout at The Devil
Sinking beneath this heavy curtain
That falls limb and arm upon me, I struggle to sit upright, alert and conversant With any of a thousand brilliant poeticals That pass through me enroute to vapor. I would wax Shakespearean,
Lyrical, and even Sapphilian, If ever I would find the energy To put my dull pen to paper. Lisa Jain Thompson
June 2008  Bobby on the beach with Freckles
Life Magazine Cover June 1968   Copyright © Lisa Jain Thompson 1995-2008. Further distribution of this newsletter in its entirety is authorized. Email your letters and postcards or visit her contact page at the Starpoet website |
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