Galaxy Net

It's a cold, dry night 
Out on the edge of town, 
Where not a breath from the wind 
Can be found, which usually whispers 
Tidings of the world's creatures 
From the high desert off to the east. 
Up in space, satellites are talking, 
Planets are plowing through the bulb, 
Radio waves are trailblazing through troposphere, 

Sending out the unbearable 
Jargon of us yammering creatures, 
So dignified in our cause that we assume 
Understanding in every word we say. 
The sky is a certain shade of dark blue 
That only comes as often as the moon 
Permits a halo 'round its alabaster drum. 
I look up at the stars to trace 
Each constellation, remembering 
The mythologies that gave them life, 
When suddenly a green plume of light 
Comes from out of Andromeda's flailing arm, 
Flashes through the atmosphere to crash 
Into the organic antennas of the forest. 
Could it be, that strange calculated signal, 
The message of some distant traveler, who, 
Intercepting the myriad broadcasts from our planet, 
Transmitted a message across the busy galaxy, 
Asking us kindly to be quiet? 

Lens Panorama

Snap!  The flash traps in time 
What elements dreams may bequeath, 
Etching onto the artist's landscape 
A visual seed, captured by ions of dust. 
Here at the mountaintop, 
The cool ledge of the canyon, 
The rhythmic shore of the lake, 
The warm cabin of the family reunion, 
The camera traces all segments of life 
Together, like some medieval tapestry 
Illustrating the story of a body 

In transit. 
 
Snap!  It aims for wonders aloft; 
Streaks of chemtrails, orbits of stardust, 
Embers of ash, mothers in sash, 
Pristine cascades trickling off the moss, 
Frolicking maidens in vales of goldenrod 
Watched over by flaming amber sunsets, 
Children offering flowers they found 
To the convex optician in the lens. 
 
Snap!  The shutter closes, 
Dissects the angles, captures the poses. 
The story of light filters through the aperture 
Cementing waves onto screens of permanence, 
Documenting all it knows through a sliver of glass, 
As if some neon eye had penetrated 
The refracted dimensions of time. 
Through the lens the eye sees beyond 
To that which is and that which is to come, 
Seeking troves of beauty that creation discarded, 
Desperately trying to make them its own. 

A Child is Born

 Behold, a child is born.  He's your son, you gave him life, look what you've done.  You find it miraculous that something so alive could come out of your body.  The universe is mysterious, hostile, unmerciful, and yet there he is, a blessing from providence, crying in your arms.  You made him, he's yours now.  This loving, vulnerable creature is yours to cherish, to spoil, to bring with you to the ends of the Earth.  Your natural instinct is to protect him from the abrasive world, though you don't know how you will do it.  It all seems so impossible, to raise a child in a place like this.  There are too many other things to worry about.  Bills, your health, appearances at company events, the sickness of his father.  How can you protect him from this diseased planet when it's hard enough to protect yourself? 

His face erases all that worry.  There in the hospital it's just you and him, this wonderful thing you've created.  You hold him close, instinctively knowing how to comfort him.  You rock him until he falls asleep, shifting consciousness between sheets of escape.  How horrible it must have been for him to leave your womb, to breath the fumigated air of this harsh environment, to be thrown out into the dangerous wilderness after resting in peace for so long inside you.  The first time he sleeps changes all that.  Now he is comfortable enough outside your body to revisit that serenity in the cradle of your arms.  And in this transition between states of danger it suddenly comes over you that somehow, you'll both make it through, that nothing will ever break the special bond between you, that you would do anything to keep him safe, even if it means sacrificing yourself for his well-being. 

You have no doubt that he will be with you through all the trials and tribulations for the rest of your life.  No matter what happens he will always be on your side, for he will love you unconditionally, just as you love him.  It will be you and him against the world, against whatever it throws at you, and this makes you want to him hold him like this forever.  You name after an archangel, as if he were one of your very own, sent from the sky to guide you through the stormy seas of living.  It's a lovely name that flows over the tongue like water, on wings of grace announcing to the world that this little one will resemble the glory of your legacy, the greatest thing you'll ever create, the ultimate success of your life. 

Fake News Was Derived from the Fake Meme

The fake news epidemic was an offshoot of the already existent fake meme.  Thousands of memes on websites like Pinterest show famous figures using quotes they never made.  Albert Einstein and Abraham Lincoln are two in particular who are so widely misquoted that I find myself having to verify every single quote I see them making in a meme.  I have also seen photos of things in outer space that aren't even possible, like an "ice sculpture" nebula. Even the stars look fake. 

Thousands of people like and share this stuff, not realizing the people who made them were using satire or trolling.  While the fake memes have been a problem for years, only recently has fake news reared its ugly head, where people actually write fake articles and call it satire.  The danger with this is obvious; if someone has taken the time to write a whole article that isn't true, it becomes harder to doubt its merit.  And if enough people read it, fantasy is sure to become fact. 

The first thing I do when reading an article is look at the URL.  If it's an unfamiliar website I look into the quality of the source first.  Trusted sources like newspapers are generally acceptable, though there are several that I will reject because of their political bias.  If the headline looks like it was written to cause unrest, I also tend to ignore it (though I hadn't done that in the past), because people are easier to influence when they are angry.  Bloggers also tend to be biased, and I freely admit my own view is biased at times, but when reporting on important issues like these I try to keep an objective view. 

So don't be a victim of fake news.  Trust your gut if something looks wrong.  Don't be lazy and share a story without verifying it, much less reading it.  Know your facts first, because in the modern age we've all become distributors of news.  We must be responsible as quasi-editors of that impish quarter of society that uses the Internet to spread these gremlins of false information.  This goes for the liberal left as well as the conservative right.  Abraham Lincoln would agree.