1 Beauty in the stomach of the beholder

2 The neurobiologist writes a love letter

3 There are no bars on Mars


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29 December 2012 Hum 3.3

Beauty in the stomach of the beholder

The beetle hangs

from his whirring wings.

He swerves around the room,

a helicopter searching

for a landing pad.

A controlled crash

against the wall.

He folds his wings back

under the metal shine

of his wing cases.

Alpha Bravo Charlie,

come in, come in.

Landed safely, Control.

It’s a parquet floor.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

One dead fly, cause of death unknown.

There’s an open window.

I sense the roses.

I’m launching again.

Ravishing beauty awaits outside

to fill my stomach.



The neurobiologist writes a love letter  – Revised 02 1.0


Would ye be offended

if I compared thee

to a meniscus –

holding these millions

of pristine water molecules

in the transparent dome

on the growing leaf?


If I compared thee

to the intimate folds of mRNA,

tenderly dancing his DNA,

would ye feel transgressed?


And if I compared thee

to an axon,

tense with electric action

that sings within the body,

would ye be insulted?


I bring thee this data,

carefully arranged

to codify the utmost meaning

of my desire

to share with thee

my ever-lasting genome.



8 Oct 2008

There are no bars on Mars – Sat – 0.2


There’s no Coca-Cola on Mars,

very little free oxygen

and no diamonds.

There is no chlorophyll on Mars,

no breakfast cereals for that matter

and there’s no running water,

no service at all.


Mars lacks couturiers

and haut cuisine,

Internet service providers

and good art films.

There are no cows on Mars

and no mad cow disease.


Salt is scarce on Mars

as are girlie calendars

(in fact, they are unobtainable).


There are no bars on Mars,

nor are there Mars Bars.

Dogs don’t bark on Mars

and nobody has ever kissed on Mars.


However, we are working on a space elevator,

and conceivably, soon

we’ll be able

to lower our standards there.