Wild Animals
Recede from internet
into plants and cats
and notebooks and writing.
Grow catnip in random
and habituated patterns.
Confused and upset, I’m
not Zen. Put good memories
in my notes. “Billionaires
are getting richer during the
global pandemic” is a haiku.
I’m crying. Myna birds are
making loud complex noises
in an o’hia tree. I’m fasting
from the global internet
in somewhat random patterns.
Remember when we looked
at guinea pigs and fish
and car colors? I got chills
on the second viewing
of the color-changing water,
when I was no longer upset.
I told you about the Nazi printing
of British money—forty percent
was fake by the end of the war,
a probably ongoing crime,
which you said explained
inflation. Grief is a sudden
and gradual rearranging
of reality through one’s views
on death. Change is time.
Wild animals are amazing.
They know how to live.
//
May 2023
At the health food store, Dad bought ice cream,
bean sprouts, and BBQ chips. I refreshed him
on the negatives of statins, showing him
the mevalonate pathway on a piece of paper.
In the car, I informed him about the forthcoming
fake alien invasion. At home, I encouraged him
to play with a bouncy ball. I felt good not discussing
his massive debt. He smoked a little tobacco
and seemed happy, manic, transplanting luffa,
picking cherry guavas. I liked having him around.
Despite his intractable-seeming financial situation,
he appeared cheerful, unworried, serene.
I gave him Bankrupting Physics and he read
30-something pages, to my pleased surprise.
He told me about his recent scientific papers
regarding the use of lasers in shaping polymers.
He liked when I criticized Michio Kaku and other
theoretical physicists. In the car to the airport,
he praised Mom, calling her smart. At home,
I cleaned mold from my blender, noticed rust
in there too, and moved my work area outside.
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