The Brightest Apes

January is a time-torn storm,
Roaring vortex doorway of the year;
Watch-storm wizard,
Wind-both-ways blizzard.
The past is new,
The future a fossil;
Flakes of white are
Memories gone and
Those not yet lived.

We stand on the threshold,
Smug, for after all,
We are the brightest apes.
We stamp-dance, fret or weep
Like small children,
Powerless, startled and chilled;
A little a-feared,
Over-faced, overawed and overwhelmed:
The brightest apes,
the most intelligent fools.


Gene Sirman*

We are going

To stand on a fossil

Billions of heartpulses from home;

To stand on the no-weather dust horizon

And look down the future

Where new stars will be conceived…


… and we will still

Fear the dark,

Question the invisible.


* The last man -so far – to stand on the moon