I was awakened early this morning by the arrival of my favorite super hero, the musical magician BPK.  It’s always a joy to have him back home. Early last evening I picked up my oldest and youngest (the middle boy stayed home to study, so that must be serious) and went to the theater to see The Avengers. Fun movie. Worth seeing. Too tired for any sort of serious review, as if I could do a serious review on a super hero movie, but if you’re the least bit inclined, I would say go treat yourself and see it.

I’m also too sleepy right now to comment in depth yet on President Obama’s recent statements in support of gay marriage. But if you’ve read my bio at or even this post, you know that I support him. It’s not “my opinion” we are talking about, by the way. It’s my life. So think carefully if you chose to debate me on this. Imagine talking to Hilary Clinton about women’s place in the home, and in subjugation to their husbands. Yes, it won’t go down well.

Besides the sleepiness, I wanted to take a couple of days to read and digest and not just give a knee-jerk reaction. For now I’ll simply say that I am proud of him for being brave enough to share his evolution of thought on this issue in a time when growth or change in a politician is portrayed in smear campaigns by certain media scam artists, posing as news sources, as “flip-flopping.” Whatever else it may mean, for the election, I am proud of him. I appreciate CurryLove’s commentary on this. More to come from me on this sometime later today when that big yellow thing is in the sky.

So for now, I’ll leave you the only bit of waking intelligence I seem capable of at the moment, one of my poems. This one received some sort of Honorable Mention back in the mid-2000’s from either Best of the Net or Best of the Web, or. . . something. I wish I could recall, because I certainly cannot find any actual record of it. Still, it was published. . . someplace (says the scatterbrained poet) back when I was active at Poem Online, and for now I will let its title be my cue that at this bleak hour, I should return to sleep.

 

    Time Piece
 
I used to keep it latched
tightly to my wrist, snapped
snugly in my pocket planner.
But since the knob broke off
 
the hands have both gone reeling
and unwinding.  Entire days 
have left me, leaf by sudden leaf,
until my calendar is nearly bare.
 
Something critical today was missed; 
an appointment or a list, a meeting
over dinner, a deal done over drinks? 
I wind the clock, but there's no tick, 
 
and my alarm is blinking 12:00 
in numbers blood-shot red.  
I pace, I sit, I rise.  I pour 
a glass of wine, but cannot read 
 
the vintage.  I swirl, and sniff. 
I sip, and I begin to taste my life
as it unwinds, quiet by the window
pondering twilight, or the dawn.

by David J. Bauman