Here’s a poem I wrote back in 2012 after Aaron Swartz’s suicide.  Still saddens me…

In a Country Where Geniuses Kill Themselves

for Aaron Swartz

You realize your understanding
varies wildly from the actual
and what you call your new
enlightenment makes even
your radical facebook friends
confident you’re about to im-
plode and yes the more you
try to convince people your
screws are secure the looser
they get and before long you
notice everyone you took for
a prophet wound up a sad news
blip about a noose or a knife
or a case of poison and you
see why people avoid the truth
with good reason

Here’s an old poem I wrote about four or five years ago:

The Wormhole’s Throat

If I could see elections as mock
reset buttons, I could believe
the future knows more than we do
now.  Dark matter particles don’t
interact with us except through
gravity.  (Explain god.)  The universe
accelerates as it expands.  We’re
nothing more than stellar debris,
creatures of change, looking for
the wormhole’s throat, any way
to go slack, to leap into a tube like
a cartoon Mario, with the idea
of skipping forward to what must be
a better place.  As if we could know
what’s on the other side.