Summer

Greetings.

For health-related reasons I won't get into here, I've taken the summer off from practicing law. Overall, despite the smothering, homicidal heat of central Texas, it's been pleasant. I've spent time with my daughters, ridden my bike, traveled a bit, and played my guitar. I've also been working on some poems with the younger of my two daughters, a whip-thin, razor-tongued, thoroughly dangerous 14-year-old named Carson. The poems are meant to be a series of mostly jocular warnings about the bad things a kid may encounter in growing up. It's called "Carson Clare's Trail Guide to Avoiding Death And Other Unpleasant Consequences: A Collection of Cautions Designed to Help You Live Life, Do Stuff, and Possibly Make it Through Middle School." (Whew! Long title, I know.)

I'd love to hear some thoughts from you all about the poems, which I plan to post here as we get them roughed out. Here's a couple of samples:


ALIENS

We know they’re lurking around out in space.
It’s a matter of math. The probabilities shout it.
What we can’t understand about our alien friends
Is why they’re determined to make us all doubt it.

With a million planets out there for good living,
Why are our neighbors so shy about giving
Us just a quick glimpse of their tentacled faces,
Or the intricate gleams of their sleek carapaces?

Or their luminous distended fibrous lungs?
Or the sentient creatures who live on their tongues?
Are their claws made of carbon, or crazier stuff?
When will they figure we’ve been patient enough?

ON THE OTHER HAND:

What if, when they go to give us a hug,
They transmit some creepy carnivorous slug
That eats us like Jell-O: quivering, wet?
On second thought, maybe we’ll wait a while yet!

Danger Rating: Speculative

Survival Tips:

• Avoid kissing hideous aliens
• Encourage development of new laser technologies



ANXIETY

The snooze bone rests
just in front of the back,
near the buoyancy bulb
and the sympathy sack—

either of which
can generate trouble
if punctured or prodded,
squashed or bent double.

But worse is the loss
of this zigzagrous bone
that comforts the cranky
and welcomes him home.

With no viable bone
to soothe one to sleep,
one’s worries start stacking
themselves in a heap,

till finally the pile
is as big as a redwood.
You get to school angry
and don’t go to bed good.

Your visions hightail it
for other soft heads,
to “dance their endancements,”
as someone once said.

At least the snooze bone
is easily tended.
Don’t try to sleep nervous,
or till your mad’s ended,

just let this odd item
expand in your chest.
(It works in a lawn chair,
but supine is best.)

Don’t summon deep thoughts.
Be quiet. They’ll come.
Your brain will unbungle,
your bone start to hum

till your room fades to black,
bright stars crowd around,
and the voices beneath you
aren’t making a sound.

Welcome, Dream Sailor!
Now steer for the sea,
where all that you hope for
meets all you will be.

Danger Rating: Cumulative

Survival Tips:
• Sleep when you can
• Drink chamomile tea
• Attend school board meetings