Starpoet by Lisa Jain Thompson
The StarPoet Newsletter
Vol. XI, No. XIII (March 28, 2010 C.E.)
StarPoet Newsletter by Lisa Jain Thompson

Kites!  Cherry Blossoms!  Cameras!  The tourists are coming! The tourists are coming!    .... and quotes from the original Starpoet website.  Enjoy.

If I were to ask you,
During the lunar eclipse,
To steal back into the woods,
Would you give up the moon
For the rest of the millennium,
And a few quiet moments in my arms?

Lisa Jain Thompson c. 1996 C.E. 

Deduke men a selanna
kai Pleiades. mesai de
nuktes, para d' erchet' ora,
ego de mona kateudo.
c. 600 B.C.E.

took us at least a month to rid us of the snow

Slow Melt

Ice on the steps,
   Inches in the street,
Bodies slipsliding
   Every which way

What the sun might melt
   By mid afternoon
Freezes slick hard
   By midnight

The spring thaw,
   When it comes,
      If it comes,
Will take a month
   To rid us
Of winter's cold reminders
   Piled high
      On February's corners.

The melt will be as slow
   As an old Quaker woman
      Taking measure
Of her young daughter's
      Latest suitor.

— Lisa Jain Thompson (March 2010)

Well, then, shall mere glory distract you? Look at the swiftness of the oblivion of all men; the gulf of endless time, behind and before; the hollowness of applause, the fickleness and folly of those who seem to speak well of you, and the narrow room in which it is confined. This should make you pause. For the entire earth is a point in space, and how small a corner thereof is this your dwelling place, and how few and how paltry those who will sing your praises here!....The Universe is change, life is opinion.

-- Marcus Aurelius

a bit more for the snow

Wintery Mix

This is the way the world ends:
By straight razor or broken glass;
One more foot of snow this winter
And I'm leaving as soon as I can;
Off to Bermuda, Cancun, or Diamond Head,
Anywhere the sun might tan my flesh,
But the next stormy mix promoted by
The weatherman, either he goes or I do,
Though I suspect I am a better assassin
Than I ever will be a suicide.
Just saying, you understand.

— Lisa Jain Thompson (March 2010)
On Top of the World

A woman's face
Is her entry into the world,
All eyes and lips
And sculpted cheek bones;

Without a proper face,
She will go unnoticed,
Consigned to the back rooms
Of home and commerce.

A man only needs
A deep voice and a shower
To rise through life
And be successful.

A woman must be perfumed
And properly accessorized,
If she is to make her mark:
The playing field is not level.

Still I would not be a man
If you made me
President of the World.

— Lisa Jain Thompson (March 2010)

Only earthbound man still clings to the dark and poisoning superstition that his world is bounded by the nearest hill, his universe ended at river shore, his common humanity enclosed in the tight circle of those who share his Town and views and the color of his skin.

-- Robert F. Kennedy

Illiad Redux

This is how the offensive begins,
The Coalition, such as it is,
Sweeps across Marjah in a bid
To secure control for the West
And the Afghan Government,
Such as it is.

American Marines and Afghan troops
Flow into the Helmand river valley
To confront a thousand Taliban
Protected by a network of canals
And heavily mined fields and roads,
No one ever said this would be easy.

Together the British,
The Americans, and the Afghans
Battle the insurgents and fanatics
Who would rule Afghanistan;
This time it would be different,
New roads, new schools,
New health clinics and secure homes,

This time we will keep
Our quickly given promise,
This time we will stay,
This time we will finish
The job we set out to do,
Unless still another President
Doesn't have the brains
Or cojones for the job.

— Lisa Jain Thompson (March 2010)

I Am

I will be that which I will be,
Future, past, and present:
No more than I am or less,
Neither role model nor sociopath,
Changing and unchanged,
Light and darkness, dusk and dawn,
One day like all the rest.

Lisa Jain Thompson C. 2000

certainly Starpoet

The Road to Oz

What happens if the answers are bigger than our questions,
If the universe proves larger than the earth's local gods,
What then?  Do we reboot the human animal or do we pretend
We never saw the answer and continue on our merry way?
The road to Oz is paved with a billion good intentions
Executed poorly by a species who all too often refuses
To look in the closet and see what may be lurking there.

— Lisa Jain Thompson (March 2010)
the past and future poet

When the revolution ended,
We went our separate ways,
One girl travelled to Blue Mongolia,
Another got married and moved
To a Northern Town with her husband,
One of us got fat, one us became
Exactly like the people we said we hated;

But most of us drifted in and out of our studies,
Got real jobs and on with our families;
I had my babies, moved to the mid-Atlantic,
And eventually became a damn good poet,
Surviving years beyond what any of us
Thought possible in the violent bloody days
That were nineteen hundred and sixty eight.

— Lisa Jain Thompson (March 2010)

For if one link in nature's chain might be lost, Another and another might be lost, Till this whole system of things should evanish by piecemeal.

-- Thomas Jefferson

binaries 2
The Weather Up Here

Women of model height,
Not NBA, not amazon,
Discover that men,
Vertically challenged,
Often exhibit anger
At any woman who'd dare
Be taller than any man,
Even one with the
Emotional equilibrium
Of a 12 year old pubescent
Awash with the aftermath
Of his first ever erection.

— Lisa Jain Thompson (March 2010)
half of me


Palermo rests between two mountains
In a golden valley that once grew citrus;
When my grandparents left
At the turn of the last century,
Organic trees still thickly scattered
Up and down the ancient farmland,
Glistening fruit against dark green leaves.
The rumble of Mount Etna,
The rattle and quake of the earth itself,
Are commonplace among other disasters:
The possibility of death is seldom more distant
Than the next warm breath escaping from your lips.

— Lisa Jain Thompson (March 2010)

In the beginning there was chaos, vast and dark space;
Then appeared Gaia, the deep breasted earth.

--  Hesiod

for all of us still praying


On my thirteenth birthday I knew
That in three years I would have my license;
It seem so far away but not as far as college,
And I had to get through the eighth grade first
So I could graduate and get on with high school.
I wanted to tell my mother
My body was turning out wrong,
I am a girl, no matter what it looks like,
But my lips would not speak the words.
Alone in my bed as the breeze from the bay
Blew through the warm Sacramento evenings,
The path from there to where I now write
Did not seem to exist:
My pillow grew wet with my frustration
As I cried out for the gods to change me.
But they never did.

— Lisa Jain Thompson (March 2010)

happy birthday baby brother

My Brother Turned Sixty

My brother turned sixty the other day,
Gray haired, what there is of it,
And various other ailments he's collected
Over a half dozen decades, here and there;

I am his older sister, life is full of surprises,
Hair still mostly brown and in place,
Who would have thunk we'd make it here,
The 1950s are so far away.

But he's alive and I'm alive,
We're racing each other to a hundred;
Who knows how it will end, I might let him win,
As long as he greets me at one twenty.

We're only halfway there.

— Lisa Jain Thompson  (March 2010)

Writing is not necessarily something to be ashamed of
-- but do it in private and wash your hands afterwards

-- Robert A. Heinlein

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StarPoet Newsletter by Lisa Jain Thompson
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