The Coming Picture of a Black Hole Next Week
          by Cawb Edius Reel & I. E. Sbace Weruld
          “And of course Henry The Horse Dances the Waltz”
              —The Beatles

The coming picture of a black hole in our galaxy
will be so dark no one will see it here apparently.
Since a black hole traps light, photography’s impossible.
Will anyone there be out looking for a breaker box?
No one has seen a black hole—even those who took this pic.
Remove the lens cap, ah, the CGI touch-up is slick.
It’s just an educated guess artitistic’lly enhanced,
a simulation not exactly based on photon dance.
Some thing no human being’s seen before—we’ve always failed—
a black hole, photoshopped—no light escapes—will be unveiled.

Cawb Edius Reel is a poet of photography and I. E. Sbace Weruld is a poet of space.

________________________________________________________________

A New Era Begins
          by Reiwa Celebuds

The First of April,
the choice month of early spring;
the weather is fine.
The wind is soft—wa—light rain.
The pink plum blossoms open.

Reiwa Celebuds is a poet who celebrates spring. These are the final weeks of Heisei (1989-2019). On May 1st, the new period Reiwa begins. Wa, the first syllable of water, in Japanese can mean harmony.

________________________________________________________________

Map Makers
          by Cad Weeler Busi
          “Mapping is a transforming of one space into another.”
              —Euclidrew Base

In China, 3 lakh world maps were recently destroyed.
Taiwan is part of China, and so all the maps were void.
Map makers also dared include Arunachal Pradesh
as part of India, so all the maps had to be trashed.
But that’s not all the problematic maps that had been made;
more than 300,000 maps were captured in that raid.
In China, if the Chinese get their sights upon your land,
Tibet, or any other, it will be in their command.
Imperialism lives all about the World today;
one doesn’t have to go too far to find it on display.

Cad Weeler Busi is a poet of maps.

________________________________________________________________

The Tasman
          by Walibee Scrude
          “He countered each encounter.”
              —R. Lee Ubicwedas

The thing that most amazed me looking at that tattoed dude
was just how hard he looked in his defiant attitude.
His opposition was complete, his truculence was real,
and yet I couldn’t help but feel he was content—that heel.
He wasn’t oversensitive; he gave a brave defense;
and yet it seemed as if his longing for the joust was dense.
How could he be antagonistic yet so satisfied?
so obviously put upon, and still be gratified?
He stood up to whatever others threw at him—that man.
He was a stream-lined devil, maniac Tasmanian.

Walibee Scrude is a poet of Australia. He used to daydream frequently of living in southern Australia, off the beaten track—south of Perth, or in Tasmania.

________________________________________________________________

Indian Space Activity
          by Badri Suwecele

ISRO successfully launched EMISAT spy satellite,
and some from Lithuania, US, Spain, Switzerland.
PSLV-C45, at an enormous speed,
took off from pad Sriharikota, India, this week.

At 753 kilometres, EMISAT went
into the orbit it would travel, in the firmament.
And Russia claims that India can spy on Pakistan,
as well as China, from its EMISAT spy radar scan.

But last week’s Shakti test, it seems, could threaten ISS—
more than 400 pieces flying near the astronauts.
Jim Bridenstine of NASA said that such activity
is not compatable with spaceflight; that’s too much debris.

Badri Suwecele is a poet of India. ISRO is India Space Research Organisation, EMISAT is Electronic Intelligence Satellite, PSLV is Polar Satellite Lauch Vehicle, ISS is International Space Station, NASA is National Aeronautics and Space Administration.

________________________________________________________________

In Diamniadio, Senegal
          by Lebu Seric Wade

Although the best-known opposition figures had been barred
from running their campaigns in February up to March;
in Diamniadio, Senegal, there was this week
inauguration pageantry for leader Macky Sall.
He had been reelected on a strong economy,
although the debt’s @ 60+ percent of GDP.
Though wanting constant oil and gas production crews off-shore,
he called for cleaner neighbourhoods, a zero-waste platform.
In Diamniadio, Macky Sall has his eyes on
a new horizon, grounded still, within his country’s dawn.

Lebu Seric Wade is a poet of West Africa.

________________________________________________________________

Kurt Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorems
          by Euclidrew Base

Kurt Gödel’s incompleteness theorems are two theorems that
establish limits in axiomatic systems—flat.
The first states no consistent system of such axioms
is capable of proving all the truth which in it comes;
for any system there will be some statements that are true,
but still within that very system they can not be proved.
The second shows such systems cannot demonstrate their own
consistencies; in fact, it’s true, their proofs remain unknown.
Von Neumann said of Gödel’s proofs, those signs of the sublime,
that they indeed are “landmarks which…remain…in space and time”,

Euclidrew Base is a poet of mathematics and mathematicians. Kurt Gödel (1906-1978) and John Von Neumann (1903-1957) were towering figures of 20th Century mathematics.

________________________________________________________________

The Thinker (in the New Millennium)
          by Wes Lud Caribee

He sits upon a black and cushioned stool, with trim black beard,
beside some broad, green leaves and narrow yellow flowers speared.
In his right hand, his fingers clutch a tilted coffee cup;
he rests his arm upon his thigh to keep it steady, up.
In his left hand, his fingers grasp a smartphone’s ebon sheen;
he holds it near his chin so he can gaze upon its screen.
He’s contemplating what is on his phone, as he sits there,
out in the sunny afternoon, warm in the Cuban air.
He is content to focus on the images he sees,
not tense, though slighty dense, his body is. There is no breeze.

Lud Wes Caribee is a poet of the Caribbean.

________________________________________________________________

The Artist at the Statue
          by Red Was Iceblue

Although he seemed relaxed, he sat up in a heighten state,
when looking at the statue that he gazed upon of late.
Beside the faint blue light, he was extending his right hand,
like as a stranger, yes, in paradise, a happy man.
Beneath the lovely sky, commanding in his attitude,
it was as if he was about to take some latitude;
for he had come upon a statue in that gorgeous park,
and he would soon partake in animated fine-made art.
How could he then not be content beside that shapely form,
and still not help but gaze upon such peace, and find it warm.

Red Was Iceblue is a poet of Modernist, Postmodernist and New Millennial art. One of his favourite sculptors is Auguste Rodin (1840-1917) with his iconic statue “The Thinker.

________________________________________________________________

The Business Man at the Table
          by Brad Lee Suciew

He stood beside the table in his business suit and tie.
Just standing there he seemed to be an ordinary guy.
But there he was attempting to complete his work on time;
the hurried work that he was doing hardly seemed sublime.
It looked like he was trying to pick up his pace a bit,
because it looked like he was falling there behind somewhat.
How could he ever catch up if he couldn’t reach a place
where he could pause in peace and pass some moments there in grace?
He lifted up his cup with both hands, took the long-sought sip,
then with a dip, and anxious grip, positioned his tie-clip.

Brad Lee Suciew is a poet of business.

________________________________________________________________

Stretched Out Beyond His Limits
          by R. Lee Ubicwedas

Poised in between the real and impossible ideal,
pulled at both ends, but also shoved around the business wheel,
he was stretched out beyond his limits in the tall highrise.
He felt like he was being pushed by those in suits and ties.
What chance had he in such a situation as he was
inside the silver circle of a cycle of because.
He needed to be tough, for if he let his guard fall down,
the golden chalice that he held would fall and be burned brown.
How could he trust a soul who wore sunglasses and a suit?
Outside the window, buildings rose; but Time rode hard—the Brute.

R. Lee Ubicwedas is a poet in the Realms of Ubiquity.

________________________________________________________________

432 Park Avenue
          by Arcideb Usewel

It stands, Viñoly’s square-shaped residential structure in
New York, rectangular 432 Park Avenue.
It looks like Joseph Hoffman’s metal basket, climbing high;
each grid-like face more than 400 meters in the sky.

Comprised of seven smaller “buildings”, stacked like layered cakes,
this tall skyscraper’s separated spaces offer breaks
to help achieve stability because it is so thin;
its slender ratio is one to fifteen, light within.

With just above 100 units, each one costs a lot,
up to $95,000,000 at the penthouse loft.
The rooms contained within are grand and very airy roosts;
Manhattan’s mat is opened up in panoramic views.

Arcideb Usewel is a poet of architecture.

________________________________________________________________

Benefits of Body-Weight Exercises
          by Rudy E. Welec, “Abs”

There are so many benefits of body-weight workouts:
high out-puts, plyometrics, no equipment raising doubts;
strength training is combined with cardio; it pumps the heart;
one burns fat fast; but one feels great the moment that you start;
it’s challenging at any level, core strength will appear;
there’s tighter abs and better posture; back stress leaves the rear;
it can increase one’s flexibility, and balance too;
there’s never an excuse to not do it; it’s good and true;
one won’t get bored; just mix it up; it helps with injury;
you’ll see results, and best of all, the whole damn thing is free.

Rudy E. Welec, “Abs”, is a poet of physical exercise. This poem was inspired by the Travelothoner.

________________________________________________________________

The Runner
          by Rudi E. Welec, “Abs”

He has some place to go, and does his best
to get to there, extending first left leg
and then his right, knees bending in the test,
with arms and elbows swinging—zig-zag-zeg.
His pace determines just how hard he pants.
His breaths go in and out. His chest expands,
collapses, then expands again. He cants
occasionally, when he rounds the bends.
And still goes on whether he flies or flees,
up hills, down vales, on pavement, earth or track,
while pressing on on hips, on thighs, on knees,
on calves and feet, and feels it, neck to back;
but never quits until he reaches it,
that is, the finish line—and beaches it.

Rudi E. Welec, “Abs” is a poet of all forms of athletics. He remembers in his youth, when his geometry teacher commented in class at how he had done in a race, saying that his was an excellent effort, but lacked staying power.