Each Spring the lesson sinks in once again: I cannot be a man if I admit to always being what I've always been. By the end of every Summer, I forget. Written in about 1961, IIRC
Then, when the uniform was new and muscles flowering in the flesh -- when exultation thrusted you into and through the bursting dash, there was the handle. Your easy hand took it in stride, the green baton, rushed it through the cinder land and finishing, eagerly passed it on. There was a second verse […]
Our big dreams come true unnoticed, while we cry for all the little ones. From a sea-blue sky a brown bolt of eagle strikes: death among flowers. Clear intention shows that what you think will happen tends to be what does. Only this end -- that dead men write no histories -- […]
I leave you sleeping warm and ride into the cold night, my eyes hurt by headlights on windshield frost. Looking up through the now clear glass I see the quotidian Earth reach up and swallow a perfect harvest Moon. All day its magic hides behind the Sun's commercial, rational glare, but dusk relights the […]
One of my habits during long meetings (particularly those of the Canadian Institute for Advanced Research [CIfAR] Quantum Materials program, where my brain's digestive capacity was frequently exceeded) was to write haiku about the speaker's topic and/or my own state of mind. Here are a few. ARPES photons knock me out, leave behind the energy […]
A poem written by Jess H. Brewer on the occasion of Erich W. Vogt's retirement party, 31 March 1994. Born on the prairies in TRIUMF tradition, the second of six Vogt family additions, Erich soon showed that he loved competition, conceived an interest in nuclear fission and set out to overcome all opposition. Erich […]
Surge and sag, rising across the Earth's crust; reward yearnings of the Moon. Falling forever frozen to a distant Sun; gas tail all alight. Wet specks merge and stick, relax into bigger bags and fall, jiggling. Clear spheres drag apart the colours from white and send circles to centre. Love is to be cool water […]
She merges, slowly blinking Buddha, into a less wise world. God bless the revelation in her eyes and open them again for her if ever magic hides. Written on the occasion of our daughter's birth at Seibo Byoin Hospital in Tokyo, 15:16 local time, Japan, May 4, 1983.
(Apologies to Robert Service) A poem written on the occasion of John B. Warren's retirement party. John Warren was a great physicist, a good friend and a nice man. The world is less for his passing. This poem was written for his official retirement from UBC around 1980, a few years after his retirement as […]
J. Reginald Richardson: he was born on the Prairie and raised by the Sea; but it was down South in the Land of the Free that he learned the fine art of knob-twiddlery. At Berkeley and later at UCLA, devices with dials would all do as he'd say. The technique that he used is […]
Wild as a watermelon feast, red-ripe in the summer rains, making the very most at least, gorging sweet ill-gotten gains, I sit bloated to inaction, spitting seeds in satisfaction.