Poem for Wednesday

The Alien
By Greg Delanty

I'm back again scrutinizing the Milky Way
of your ultrasound, scanning the dark
matter, the nothingness, that now the heads say
is chockablock with quarks & squarks,
gravitons & gravitini, photons & photinos. Our sprout,

who art there inside the spacecraft
of your Ma, the time capsule of this printout,
hurling & whirling towards us, it's all daft
on this earth. Our alien who art in the heavens,
our Martian, our little green man, we're anxious

to make contact, to ask divers questions
about the heavendom you hail from, to discuss
the whole shebang of the beginning&end,
the pre–big bang untime before you forget the why
and lie of thy first place. And, our friend,

to say Welcome, that we mean no harm, we'd die
for you even, that we pray you’re not here
to subdue us, that we’d put away
our ray guns, missiles, attitude and share
our world with you, little big head, if only you stay.

--------

Yay yay yay LJ came back before I managed to get to bed! I haven't posted a nightly entry in GreatestJournal since January 15th, 2005, and boy did it feel strange. If I didn't know that much of San Francisco had suffered a blackout, I'd wonder whether LiveJournal pulled the plug so all of us threatening to bail over terms of service realized how much more convenient it would be just to stay put. On the other hand, I found a surprising number of people over on GreatestJournal and InsaneJournal, so obviously there's a decent amount of emergency organization going on elsewhere.

I had a pretty good day. Lunch with at The Corner Bakery. Exchanging some stuff at Target. Writing up news about how Matt Damon definitely won't be the new Kirk, Zachary Quinto probably will be the new Spock and Walter Koenig is horrified at conditions in Myanmar. Discovering that I must get the Wrath of Khan ornament when Hallmark releases this year's Star Trek holiday line. scalded and blistered his fingers baking brownies but seems to be recovering.

Watched the pilot of Damages on F/X, in part because I have lasting adoration for Glenn Close though I wish she'd stop getting facelifts so I barely recognize her and in part because The Washington Post gave it a rave review. I didn't love it as much as all that, though the cast is terrific -- Rose Byrne, Ted Danson and Tate Donovan are the other main characters and the entire supporting cast is made up of terrific character actors, so it's quite enjoyable from that standpoint, but it's very bloody and told in flashback so we're aware of where it's headed before it even gets going. Glenn is playing one of her patented man-eater roles ("If you were a man I'd kick you in the balls," says a male opponent, to which she retorts, "If you were a man, I might worry.") She jokes that she assumed one of her associates was gay, warns her newest associate not to have children because "you can leave your wives, but you can't leave your kids...kids are like clients, they want all of you all the time," and much as I love to watch her chewing scenery, there's just enough Cruella De Vil in the writing that I don't quite take it seriously.


gave me this chocolate frog in honor of Harry Potter. Fortunately I had the pic at Photobucket. Tomorrow if LiveJournal Scrapbook cooperates, I will post a photo of a real frog!