"Present!"

"Present!" the word

repeats the voice 

unless called into a transmitter

passed over twisted wires 

or imperceptible waves

and reconstituted as sound

at a distant place

in which case

it contradicts.

The Eye of Reason

not 

to be accused 

of observing

without interpreting

Hershel 

turned his telescope 

to the moon 

and 

seeing craters 

luminescing

christened them

volcanos

"how far

we have been authorized

to use

the mental eye"

he enjoined 

the reader

to decide

Whispering

Air forced through throat and teeth,

imploded by lips and licked by tongue,

bypassing the so-called vocal chords 

(named after the ability to produce tones

not any structural resemblance to strings -

folds is more accurate),

to push the cooler air outside some ways

before coming to rest.

Philosophy may become poetry,

but the whisper - from a distance - is silence.

Our cups runneth over with joy

Our cups runneth over with joy -

But "cup" sounds too dixie,

too much the toothbrush's companion

Joy's cup is a goblet 

opaque, not crystal

and weightless in one's hand while stolid on the table

But "goblet" sounds too regal, too Renaissance Faire 

"Glass" is out of the question, being glass

And "mug" would only do for a shot, while joy must be gulped

So we are back to cups - 

Cups of joy which we raise

Because joy wishes to return to whence it came - 

from above the starry canopy

Beyond where our telescopes can reach.

And it will return there,

As our drinks turn into songs

And we lift our voices to be heard,

slurrring, across the vastness of space.

We communicate through tubes

We communicate through tubes: 

he has his, and I have mine.

And oriented properly - 

so that the ends would be touching

if only they weren't so far apart - 

we can not only see

but hear each other:

he in his world, me in mine.

And if I want to give him something,

I need only pass it through the tubes.

And similarly I can receive:

something from him as he from me.

And all this works through glass so clear

it is as if we're both right here;

but if our tubes come misaligned

I flee from his world, he from mine.