A Stone Unturned

  No one is even glimpsing among the graveled chips of crust today. I don't know how long I've been cracked into this tiny piece; but obscured and unnoticed in the randomness of placement is better than being kicked around.

  It is usually the case when your tarnished side is up, leaving you vulnerable. I've accepted that my lackluster doesn't have the appeal of the natural beauty in resplendent gems and sea shells  The only hope lies in the never-ending winds and currents  of perpetual browsing; otherwise you submit to erosion. So, you lay in wait like an orphan longing to be adopted. A linear fracture line might attract an artist's eye.

  In the dream it happened.

 This time two worlds didn't collide and neither one collapsed; they eclipsed. To rest in the hand of flesh was vibrant, and the release into a warm pocket was comforting. The encounter was more than remembered occasions of mindless elevations into thoughtless hand squeezes before being hurled into a different community, usually into a body of water if not striking a tree or landing into forlorn foliage.

  The shock of hearing a voice speak to me was weird,but it was a new sensation. The lingering thumb on my gash made me feel as if I had a breath to draw, leaving me as  surprised as a drunk  prostitute's reaction to a brief smooch after a service rendered.

   As any other element awakened by the sun's power to close dreams. I'm content to have remembered this one and hope that someday I might even become preserved in a Klimt mosaic.

Death of Trust

Minutes chase the hour
The hours chase the day
Days of love await the hour
when trust will be betrayed.

Shredded on the wheel of time
wherein there's no reverse,
chopped in unforgotten pain,
unable to traverse
familiar paths
averting drops of rain.

Naked chunks strewn
atop a sacred ground
above the hallowed hideaways,
 residue is burrowed,
never to be found.

Severed skin seeps drop of blood
to dry, to darken
into an endless night
of unforgotten pain
unable to traverse familiar paths
to avert the mourning rain.

The wheel of time keeps turning
for the slaughters that will come
after deception's wrecking ball
slams trust to be undone.

Aldous Pause

As I walked through the State of Mind,
I came upon a spot where I knew
Aldous Huxley had been.

In a place without writing on a wall,
pause reverently bestowed its will.
The past's incessant nudging pressed
against my back with the weakened force
of a hall of self reflective mirrors.

I had danced the square dance,
but never the minuet;
I had jazzlessly jitterbugged
through war's intermissions.

Aldous might have paused here too,
scoffing at unknowing the unknown;
but knowing whose hands would manage
the next impregnated motherload of postwar hope,
as they always know when to seize command.

My mother never danced the minuet,
but taught me the jitterbug in a world of our own.
The frenzy of rhythmic swirls, twirls, dips, and spins
enshrouded her innocence and naivety's
trust that life would be better for me
 in the wake of what came to be
just another war to end all wars.

Nudged as I am, I nudge forward too, lightly
pressing against the backs of youngsters
scoffing at unknowing the unknown;
but knowing whose hands would manage them
as they always know when to coat the wheels
of caissons with the song that rolls along.

Outlier

Realizing someone must extend
across the divide, I slipped off
my comfortable coat
and stepped out on the bridge.

Coldness and isolation beset me
as I cautiously tread on
each of the footing ropes.
I had become an outlier.

Wondering if this was sacrifice,
I glanced back to note my missing coat
among the stirring and anguished crowd
and felt no less lonely.

Dogs Don't Bark at Parked Cars

He surrendered his life like a well worn lease
through the narrow eyes of the law,
having sloshed through puddles of spiritual darkness,
feeling fearfully delectable to the variety in animal tastes.

He took his last breath.
We call it death, the absence of life;
but his energy's complexity paid homage to his gratitude
for all those who strove to make his world a better place.

Coldness sat in like the relevance of his humanity,
escorting him into the abyss before morphing into fractals
condensed in voluminous clouds of statistics.
Data reigns and showers all who shelter, cup, or drown.

Some drenched in pools of spiritual darkness
like those dropping the floor from under him face down;
Some like him, sacrificed as dead weight under
a constellation of cacophonous pitter-patter tweeter chatter.

Left to float like shining oil on broken pavement,
evaporating senselessly from lidless bell jars,
oblivious to the dog whistles of  credulity and self-delusion,
yet knowing that dogs don't bark at the parked cars.

Review of The Signal and the Noise by Nate Silver

  During these times of dubious economic and political stability, the buzz word "uncertainty"  is often heard in the media and felt in our personal lives.  When hearing of the success in which Mr. Silver predicted the outcome of the 2012 election, I became curious as to how he was able to so closely call precinct results and bought this book.
  Not being a gambler per se, and knowing very little about statistics, I was a bit apprehensive at first; but soon comforted by the straight-forwardness in the text, and how conversational it read. Also, I could see why it was listed among self-help books, and like how broadly the concept of finding our personal signals (reliably factual), amid ambiguous noise, could be applied.
  The author's analyses among various topics reveal a plethora of knowledge and wide range of experiences that serve as examples of how to think in specific ways in given situations. His gift for conveying what went wrong and why makes the book intriguing and fun to read. Far from the tone of a condescending know-it-all, Nate Silver writes as a buddy who is willing to show you the ropes in sports, investments, medicine, weather, etc. In short, he offers you a key to reliability.

Review of Plutocrats by Chrystia Freeland

  The disparity between the top 0.10% and the 0.01% of income brackets featured in The Plutocrats runs  hand in hand with the fractal inequality described in Chris Hayes' Twilight of the Elites.  Chrystia Freeland presents a well documented account of the values and culture of the super-elite, and points out the disparity even within the range between the merely wealthy and the wealthiest. Her book reveals intricacies within this exclusive group of global investors who are shaping our economic future in their financial endeavors that are unfettered by national interests, and furthermore defining the shape of things to come in this century. In a world without political boundaries, their economic fiefdoms lay in waiting not so much for large and sluggish corporations modeled on entrepreneurs of the late nineteenth century, but for a new more ethnically diverse generation in a second Gilded Age (piggy-backing or leap frogging the technological precedents of the first), and whose speed in pouncing on investment opportunities in industrial development exceeds the standard paradigm of big eating small.
  Ms. Freeland's acceptance of oligarchic behaviors is a reality check. Her distinction between rent-seeking investors- who capitalize on existing enterprises (usually through government contracts) - versus the truly innovative industries like Microsoft and Apple wherein the gravitational pull is reversed, provides insight into the dynamics of money and political power. More importantly, she demonstrates that oligarchic power isn't necessarily exclusive; and that opportunities exist for it to be broadened by those unselfish enough not to pull the ladder of social stratification up behind them.
  The Plutocrats is a good book to read on the heels of Chris Hayes' Twilight of the Elites; America After Meritocracy because it lends to a refreshing outlet from the static, tail-chasing depiction of our bloated meritocratic institutions, that are becoming increasingly dysfunctional by their insulation and segregation from their purposes. What may not strike the reader as refreshing is the scope of the topic; it's global now. I would recommend this book to those prone to accept conspiracy theories about the power elite, and those who aspire to entrepreneurship. For the former, it presents the dynamics of finance and power; for the latter, some character traits among the successful personalities interviewed by the author.