LOVE,
DEATH,
HUMANISM
Practical Philosophy in Verse
Dan Dana, PhD
Five Palms Press
Sarasota, Florida
dandana.us/fivepalms
© Dan Dana 2024
All text is authored by Dan Dana. No text was generated by AI. Photos and images not otherwise attributed were created by the author. Certain images were generated by AI, designated as “Image by AI (ImageFX)”.
The number at the bottom of each haiku (/***) is a locator code indicating its place (1 to 419) in the sequence of compositions from September 2019 to present.
Contents
Preface
Introduction
Regions of the mind:
1. Love
2. Death
3. Humanism
Epilogue
Author
Acknowledgements
Other books
Preface
With Eyes Wide Open
you and I seek love
yearning to touch and be touched
to see and be seen
you and I will die
breaching our lone horizon
to be no longer
you and I wonder
who am I in the cosmos?
is this all there is?
we are both poets
seeking our own perfect words
where none can be found
you and I can share
this trek to oblivion
with eyes wide open
/395
Introduction
Who does NOT seek love, or more abundant love — that glue that binds us to others, that makes us matter to each other, filling, albeit incompletely, the hole where loneliness otherwise abides?
Who does NOT accept, albeit with dread, the inescapable truth that they will die one day, that their trip will be over, that their personal horizon will be breached?
Who does NOT wonder, amid the hubbub of daily chores, what it all means, what is the big picture beyond local mundanity? Religion works for some. Others recognize the shortcomings of religious myths to explain the awesome reality of our miniscule moment within the unfathomably vast cosmos of infinite spacetime. What worldview best replaces the abandoned fairy tales of pre-science antiquity?
This curated collection of 103 haiku quintets contains evocative thought-snippets in each of these three regions of the mind.
The haiku quintet is an emergent poetic form, originated by the author and derived from the classical 17th Century Japanese style. In each, five 17-syllable haiku under an umbrella title comprise a topical theme. A photo or image illustrates and completes the finished piece, once described as "poetic impressionism by curious wordcraft.”
Each of the three named sections—Love, Death, Humanism—contains pin-hole glimpses into these dimensions of human experience that curious minds have pondered for millennia. You are living a unique life, one that no one has lived before. It’s now your turn. You’re in charge. You love. You will die. What do you believe?
What about science? Several haiku contain reference to concepts in science, particularly cosmology, evolutionary biology, human paleontology, and psychology (the subject of my PhD and career). These mentions refer to settled, non-controversial findings or to prevailing professional theories in those disciplines. They are not science fiction nor popular misconstructions of these fields. They represent objective reality as science has so far revealed it. I employ science here to substantiate the secular worldview that underlies my assertions of practical philosophy.
This book is not designed to be read front to back, although habit may impel you to do so. Your attention may be drawn more to one of its three headings than another. Within each, haiku are arranged in no strict order. Some verses may catch your interest, beckoning to be reread to dwell on its personal significance to you. Others you may find irrelevant to this moment in your life’s journey.
Browse
Let your mind wander
Follow it there
Repeat
Region 1
Love
Plato and Aristotle, astute observers of human nature, gave us language for that ubiquitous set of emotions we loosely call love. Some custom blend of their seven kinds of love (parsed elsewhere) defines our personal relationships today, 2400 years later. Human nature changes slowly.
In the following pages, I humbly employ my own life-partner and primary love object—from 1995 ‘til-death-do-us-part—as an exemplar. Her name is Susan. She is my ideal. We are the product of our relationship work. Your efforts to find, create, and cultivate love in your own life may produce a quite different result. Bits you encounter here, filtered through your own private lens, may help you find your way or confirm your own choices. If so, my task has been successful.
As you peruse these 29 haiku, Susan will be replaced in your mind’s eye by your own love object(s)—perhaps your spouse or other partner, temporary or permanent, living or lost, same sex or other, monogamous or poly, happy or distressed, real or imagined. Let these haiku morph into your own unique living story.
Viewed through a wider lens than just romantic love, some haiku address other forms of affectionate attachment identified by our Greek philosophers. To adapt and repurpose a biblical quote, “Man does not love by romance alone.”
How to Make Love
(It’s not what you think.)
no deep secret here
simple truth for keen partners
use this power tool:
pay close attention
mate's soft bids for connection
accept, don’t reject
turn toward, not away
turn-aways kill trust, troth, love
turn-towards cement bond
listen when she* speaks
applaud her* career success
laugh at her* fun pun
meet kiss-hint with yours
subtle gestures flow both ways
turning toward makes love
* Feminine pronouns adopted as generic /69
My Valentine
there’s mojo in two
one eye’s not enough, nor ear
one leg cannot stand
one heart’s not enough
mine hardly beats without you
my self’s other half
one plus one is three
in love’s odd mathematics
our equation works
one half-life’s too short
I have doubled-down on you
a winning wager
mi Valentina
you are twice the worth of me
with you, I am whole
Caricature by Sean Connor /185
Three Magic Words
practiced life partners
know well I-Love-You's effect
when sincerely voiced
triggers like response
reciprocity's reflex
ripens love's sweet taste
less known and practiced
three more magic power-words
when disputes erupt:
defenses push back
blame, fault, anger take the wheel
driving toward a ditch
harness that reflex
take high road to love’s repair
asking, Tell-Me-More
From mediation training course developed by Dan Dana
— www.mediationworks.com /144
Puppies in a Box
it’s often declared
among relationshipped folk:
“marriage is hard work”
not so, in our nest
I don’t own you, nor you me
we are free to be
no promises bind
I choose you afresh each day
our freedom’s unchained
kindnesses gifted
each in debt to the other
balance sheets in rhyme
primal friendship’s root
loving’s simple sauce known by
puppies in a box
Image by AI (ImageFX) /18
how close do I come,
daring to let you see me
—real me, warts and all?
and, how far away
do I stay hidden from you,
safe from your arrows?
writing these haiku,
now shared on the world wide web,
reveals my answer
browsing these secrets,
you may peer into my core
through frosted windows
I’m only human,
managing my boundaries,
just like you, my friend
* A term from object relations theory coined by psychoanalyst Melanie Klein /293
Hear The Other Side
in comfy silos
we hear only our echoes
muting others’ sides
our firm opinions
rest on facts we choose to hear
not heard by your side
we do not convict
people we accuse of crimes
‘til we hear their side
when trapped in conflict
there is only one escape:
hear the other’s side
from ancient wisdom:
audi alteram partem*
“hear the other side”
* A Latin phrase originating in Greek drama, a maxim in English law, a truism in mediation, a precondition for love
Speakers’ Corner, Hyde Park, London /327
Simple Magic*
stay in dialog,
resist tug to walk away
or to power-play
patience wins the war,
raise risk’s scared but daring head
above the foxhole
trust peace’s process
as Mother Apology,
bravely lifts her veil
me-against-you fades,
us-against-it emerges,
“we” supersedes “I”
both science and art,
mediation’s a life-skill
—it's simple magic
* The original working title of Managing Differences /121
Economics of Love
clean underwear, socks
mysteriously appear
in dresser drawers
Sunday brunch specials
just magically show up
at my table place
I’m deeply in debt
my remittances fall short
of the balance due
she accepts payment
in curious currencies
from my bank’s account
exchange rates vary
but each thinks we are winning
—rich beyond measure
/163
Transactional Love
fairness your focus?
getting less than you're giving?
wrong frame for true love!
keep score: self-defeat
counting your cash ensures loss
winning is losing
transactional love?
oxymoron, can’t compute
quid pro quo shorts both
one plus one is ten
yielding love’s rich abundance
let it multiply
not-to-win’s the goal
no-secrets is the secret
surrender control
/56
Reciprocity
that glue that joins us:
reciprocity’s soft nudge,
your kind act’s applause
“I hear you, my friend
I accept your outstretched hand
I’m here in your world”
but in reply’s void,
the sound of one hand clapping,
what am I to hear?
no answer … I wait …
nature abhors a vacuum*
assumptions rush in
you and I respond,
we accept the outstretched hand,
we’re here in our world
* A concept attributed to Aristotle /358
Decrypting Woman
countless blunderings
litter my long winding path
to this latter day
decades of missed cues
my garbled ear could not hear
my blurred eye couldn’t see
his-and-her desires
vulnerabilities glimpsed
in funhouse mirrors
coded messages
modestly sought undressing
sometimes urgently
fumbling for access
hacking your encryption key
guessing your password
/201
Femininity
your sniffable neck
fragrant female pheromones
my breakfast bouquet
your nuclear touch
electrons desire protons
charged ions snuggle
male seeking female
so glad you reciprocate
this force of nature
primal energy
exquisite polarity
magnetic allure
could I resist your
lovely feminine power?
probably, … but why?
/362
Fixer-Upper
it seems I’m due for
some repairs and improvements
I had not noticed
nose hair needs trimming
comfy draw-string shorts are stained
… among more eyesores
I live in her nest
needing frequent attention
—a fixer-upper
is she tending to
her investment property
that’s losing value?
or is she simply
tending to my self-neglect
because she loves me?
/357
A Coding Error
she said what she meant
in well-chosen word-symbols
perfectly clearly
he heard what he chose
“I know her intent,” he thought
“I read her script”
he replied with care
in same language (so it seemed)
“now we’re clear,” he judged
but something went wrong
unseen filters warped our view?
or coding error?
neither of us knew:
what I heard’s not what you meant
‘round and ‘round and ‘round
/161
Angel on Earth
no spirit-elf myth
if angels on earth there be
I know one quite well:
foresees others' wants
nurse-caregiver at her core
off-scale mindfulness
nurtures by nature
advocate for those in need
champ of voice-and-choice
tenacious fixer
restores sundered children with
mama-bear fierceness
makes our house a home
kindest person ever known
I kiss her nightly
The angel (1953) /50
Bon Voyage
we're a cruising team
crossing fierce Pandemic Sea*
each other’s first mate
rising every morn
navigating through each day
'til our goodnight kiss
we share the tiller
steering clear of rocky shoals
and far shore’s dark reef
yon fog-shrouded coast
who can know this journey's end?
we bid bon voyage
co-traveling friend
love’s expedition partner
sailing toward life’s dusk
* Composed during COVID-19 pandemic (2020) /152
Kissing Quandary
so snug on the couch
blanket tucked under your chin
blonde wisps frame your face
your afternoon nap
this precious at-home Sunday,
you’ve been working hard
sweet love swells my heart,
we’re two puppies in a box
sharing life’s comforts
might I sneak a kiss
on your cheek, but not wake you?
my lips want your warmth
no, you need this rest
you would lift your sleepy head
to greet my sly kiss
Photo taken from my desk while writing this haiku /266
Haiku Disruptor
early morning spoon
my arm wraps your hand-cupped flesh
no sound but breathing
your dawn-glinted hair
our warm body-melt sandwich
puppies in a box
like aching beauty
of fading, dying sunset
permanence denied
sleep-washed brain cells stir
this perfect moment disturbed
words disrupt my peace
restless, twitching mind
wrests me from snug partnered bliss
to write this haiku
/165
Where Is Your Beauty?
out there or in here?
where lies your beauty’s lodestar?
in you or in me?
my admiring eye
quaffs your yummy countenance,
quenching my heart’s thirst
our rich alchemy,
a master chef’s concoction
so sweet to my taste
lovers’ featured asset,
poets’ raw material
since dawn of love’s time
words cannot capture
this art we draw together
on love’s shared canvas
At former home of Elizabeth Taylor, Puerto Vallarta /355
Statement of Purpose
on our balcony
on Calle Jacaranda
twelve hard years ago
your wailing grief surged
from depths only mothers know
—I would be your rock
words rose from my soul,
you deserve all I can give,
my unfailing love:
“My life has no higher purpose
than to contribute to the
quality of your life”*
this broken haiku
hopes to repair your trauma
in some small measure
* This 15-word Statement of Purpose found voice on the day Susan received news of her son’s unsurvivable cancer in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, 2010. He died in 2015. /340
Resilience
and generous to a fault
you are an angel
strangers who stumble
into your warm sunshine are
stunned by your goodness
we who know you best
who return your love with love
are the lucky ones
but those who squander,
who trample your sweet kindness
discard a treasure
your softness is strength
you can rally from setback
you’re resilient
Susan began learning piano at age 70 /326
Skin Therapy
no good answers to be found
no words sooth your pain
can nothing be done?
am I helpless to help you?
must you cope alone?
skin therapy heals
we lie together naked
skin-to-skin-to-skin
mine feeds yours feeds mine
you absorb love through your pores
no talk, no action
therapeutic balm
of pure animal essence
the best medicine
Dan(l) – Susan(r)
Patches of skin that often touch each other /292
She’s Not Done Yet
morning's alarm sounds
wake me at eight, you had asked
"I am not done yet"
did you finish the
audiobook on your walk?
"I am not done yet"
bacon on your plate,
which I eye with interest
"I am not done yet"
birthdays piling up,
stack getting fretfully high
"I am not done yet"
my idle question,
do you still love me, my Dear?
"I am not done yet"
/119
How to Choose a Spouse
answer four questions,
find your shared lives fulfilling,
or a pail of tears:
can we be best friends?
mutual respect, liking,
trust in guilelessness
does sex work for us?
we are natural creatures
beneath cosmetics
are our wants in sync?
lifestyle preferences play
in the same ballpark
can we talk it out?
we can find common ground
for a path forward
July 1, 2000 /344
Relationship Black Holes
I bid for contact
you star in my universe
I care about you
I send a quantum
bundle of loving wattage
checking our tether
like cosmic namesake
energy goes in, none out
from dark closed system
best keep my distance?
where's your event horizon,
your heart's boundary?
Susan? no such doubt
your bright star lights my lifespace
our gravities meld
Image: Scientific American /98
The Bridge Between
bound by life itself
we two islands lie conjoined
tied by shared genome
uneven traffic
pulses sent, trickle returns
from bloodline’s black hole
our clan’s push-and-pull
generation gap cleaves us
cohorts entreat us
both sides left forlorn
I know what we’ve lost, do you?
fog will rise, in time
this span shall not fail
force of will and love prevail
the bridge between stands
/63
Existential Borderland
we touch, I feel you
separated by our skins
we’re near, but not one
we meet, I see you
separated by our masks
we’re near, but not one
we talk, I hear you
separated by our words
we’re near, but not one
we care, we share love
separated by our selves
we’re near, but not one
we’re close, but alone
a borderland lies between
no yoke can meld us
/213
An Old Flame
she reached across miles
decades and careers in time’s dust
an email surprise
adjusting life-plans
rescripted in middle age
in personals ad
we explored ourselves
with witty conversation
warming our brief space
our journeys diverged
seemed lost to forgotten days
then … my inbox rang
how are you, old friend?
I want to learn about you
and about myself
MSR /92
“good morning, Susan,
I’ve landed in Miami”
she paused, seemed confused
overnight flight’s daze
mixed up my reminder notes,
“sorry, my mistake”
I owed her a call
back home, I apologized
I blew it, I thought
not the jealous type
one of her fine qualities
partner-type, for me
retired together
in our condo by the bay
she’s the right Susan
/243
Finding Her
like ripening fruit
he was growing more ready
to re-pair his life
he’d relived a time
he had never lived before
only imagined
wiser choice, this time
he had learned the recipe
of love’s secret sauce
armed with his treatise*
he sallied Cupid’s broad plain
vision in focus
his arrow struck gold
two puppies snug in our box
‘til death we’ll remain
* Compatibility Factors (unpublished) /243
Song for Susan
dear co-traveler,
this path we chose together
hand in hand we go
your innate kindness
guiding me and growing me
showing me myself
our trust seals our bond
no dark suspicions intrude
e duo unum
simple humanism
no supernatural myths
we believe in us
onward 'til our end
living day by precious day
my friend, mate, my love
/5
The Real Lesson
I fancied myself
a fast runner, at age nine
could I beat my mom?
she took my challenge
to the far mulberry tree
she easily won
I was deflated
she hugged me with love and grace
I learned a lesson:
in whatever field
underestimate my mom
at your own peril
for years thereafter
she was sorry for winning
—love’s the real lesson
My mom (1918-2009) displaying another of her remarkable talents at age 89, April 2008 /247
My Dad at 150
on this Father’s Day
we’re getting up there in years,
you and I, Old Man
my mythic totem,
you are who I’ve strived to be
in fatherless dreams
dwindling few of us
recall your twinkling blue eyes
as thoughts stirred your mind
when I reach your years
who'll recall my twinkling eyes?
some aging poet?
meanwhile, life goes on,
I’m busy living each day,
just as you were, Dad
J. W. Dana (1874-1955), photo circa 1925 /33
Sibling Love
we shared Mom and Dad
our DNA overlaps
joined at the genome
as kids we played nice
decades passed, we found our mates
our grandchildren grow
our journeys diverged
miles stretch between our homes
and our worldviews
love takes sundry forms
not mates nor just friends are we
nor offspring most dear
lifelong sibling bond
unlike any other tie
Sis, Bub, I love you
Dan – Deana – Jon (2019) /24
Inexpressible
in one precious frame,
the three women I love most,
tracing my heart’s joy
this spindly haiku
struggles to carry the freight
of love’s sundry forms
too few syllables,
my thin thesaurus falls short
surely there’s a way!
for want of language,
all who burst with love’s heartbeat
wear this poet’s shoes
inexpressible
in words known to humankind
d’ya know what I mean?
Wife – Granddaughter – Daughter (2021) /214
Love’s Origin Story
newborn needs its mom
in love’s origin story
mom needs her newborn
moms love their babies,
span cultures, species, eons,
an eternal bond
fruits of her womb count
ten thousand generations,
life’s unbroken chain
birthing and nursing,
she would kill to protect them
by primal instinct
the girl fell in thrall,
igniting her life’s purpose
—babies rule the world
Personal collection of Susan, a mother-baby nurse /419
Newborn
welcome to the world
held in loving arms and hearts
you’re one lucky kid
though you can’t yet know
your keen senses surely feel
that love swaddles you
what wonders await
what sights your wide eyes will see
what far lands you’ll know
you’ll climb life’s mountains
and plumb its valleys’ dark depths
learning as you go
those who gave you life
love you just for who you are
not for what you’ll do
Tyghe (1977-2015) /218
In Mommy’s Eyes
you are my whole world
you have no name but Mommy
you and I are one
I glow in your eyes
no border separates us
I’m still inside you
your face delights me
I see me in your eyes’ gleam
your smile is my joy
not-me is just you
I want nothing else but you
you give me myself
now is eternal
here is only you and me
love is all there is
In object relations theory, ego begins to form from the moment of birth when the newborn attempts to relate to the world. Mother’s breast, then face, are the first external objects to be known. Photo credit: Sara Scott. /223
My Relief Generation
Dedication of my memoir, A Life Mostly Lived
nearing the hand-off
of my lap with the baton
your turn has begun
our story’s passed on
distant past to far future
one life at a time
shrouded in folklore
memory’s fleeting half-life
decays to fragments
save this slim box of
Papi’s memory snippets
for your relievers
as future unfurls
preserve your lap’s key moments
—the relay goes on
Seamus and Claribel (2006) /321
Region 2
Death
The idea of death becomes an ever more powerful attractor the closer it appears on the uncertain horizon, like a magnet as it nears the opposite pole. I’m pushing eighty. I’m drawn in like a moth to flame, watching warily as I circle its vortex.
This portion of the book contains forty haiku quintets. None are morbid or gruesome. I hope to die peacefully and lucidly. I do not fear actually being dead. Holding an atheistic, non-spiritual worldview, I anticipate no afterlife. I behold in wonder the stark reality before me, that I will die and the world will go on, just as I have gone on after the deaths of my parents, and humanity has gone on for millions of generations of ancient and pre-human ancestors who each died. And, in some post-human sentient form, we will go on until life’s final extinction some five billion years hence as the expanding sun vaporizes our planet. In choosing to live, such is our bargain with fate.
I offer these verses hoping that you, dear mortal reader, may find inspiration, joy in living your awesome finite existence, and wise acceptance of its end.
My Obituary
(An early draft)
migrant of the mind
who could not resist asking,
“what’s life’s big picture?”
avid collector
of worldly experience,
his lifelong hobby
career was a drill
to probe psyche’s precious gems,
he dared to dig deep
dismantler of myths,
sought to fathom our true place
in this vast cosmos
educator strove
to leave world a smarter place,
now returned to dust
Dan Dana
9/23/1945—?/?/20??
Educator – Mediator – Poet
/413
Lucky Life
1945 – 20??
born at World War’s end,
lived ‘til democracy died(?)*
lifespan’s perfect plan
escaped ancients’ pain,
far surpassed royals’ comforts,
skipped predators’ lunch
goods and services,
luxuries beyond belief
with middle class means
great while it lasted,
lucky place and lucky time,
I’m a lucky schmuck
fortunes turning dark
as human story unfurls,
I mourn future’s child
* Ominous clouds appear on America’s political horizon at the time of this writing (August 2024)
Image by AI (ImageFX): There but for fate went I. /402
Legacies Die Too
death’s specter nears,
I’ve kicked my can down the road
two generations
years or decades more?
I may live another day,
but brute fact remains:
my checklist of done-that’s,
once carefully curated,
must fade from time’s plan
vain fantasies dwell
in mortals’ void afterlife,
memoir’s futile myth
legacies die, too,
I sigh in meek surrender
—‘til my next haiku
Cover of volume II of my memoir (scheduled 2025) /384
Being Dead*
no darkness, no light
nothing at all, forever
no past, no future
time after I die
will not pass—same timelessness
as before my birth
here will not be there
who I was will be no more
no me, no not-me
no regret, no loss
no loneliness, no sadness
no fear, no gladness
no pain, no pleasure
no now, no then, no being
—pure nothingness reigns
* This description becomes obvious once religion (supernaturalism) is discarded. /411
My Deathbed
I’ll die in this bed
if my life ends as I hope,
a calm, peaceful death
days are not numbered,
circumstances not yet known,
blind corners remain
my legacy’s cast:
books* known to all I have loved,
read by all who care
when pain exceeds joy,
may no law trespass this right:
my death is my choice
in life-partner pact,
we may take this road as one,
love shared to its end
* Memoir, A Life Mostly Lived, and other volumes /370
My Sell-by Date
when will I have reached
memory’s slippery slope?
are there clear signposts?
point of no return,
death’s door of choice shuttered tight,
exit’s key is lost
as sell-by date nears
or if hers precedes my own,
we may share the plunge
I forget friends’ names,
new games’ rules befuddle me,
I repeat myself,
I like “the old way,”
I reveal more than I should,
as in this haiku
/377
The Crime of Killing Time
quarantine fillers*
empty tasks devoid of worth
staving off boredom
life’s stark finitude
nonrenewable resource
spent one day per day
youth’s bottomless cup
unconcerned by careless spills
blinded by plenty
elders’ clearer sight
murky depth comes into view
we savor each drop
tilting once-full cup
heeding crime of killing time
I sip slowly now
* Composed during COVID-19 pandemic quarantine (2020) /160
Slippery Slope
on tongue’s tender tip
names of known people and things
stubbornly resist
my urgent summons
in daily conversations
at senior moments
friends say, “yeah, me too”
but their words seem to appear
when called to duty!
how did your brains work,
oh pioneer ancestors,
as age beset you?
were you forgetful?
did you sense, with worried mind,
that slippery slope?
/408
How Is Life Good?
bomb-crushed Gazans scream
hostages wail for release
last hope fades to black
Ukrainians die
like Putin’s captured conscripts
blending blood with mud
hordes pound border wall
fleeing homelands’ misery
so near, door slams shut
in this pain-drenched world
some victims grace our news screens,
but most never do
please tell me again,
believers in loving gods,
just how is life good?
Ground zero, Hiroshima, Japan (2003) /405
Alzheimer’s Dream
we were traveling
got separated somehow
I asked directions
but took a wrong turn
forgot where he said to go
I’m getting worried
I am so confused
this place is unfamiliar
I can’t find my phone
where could she have gone?
I hope she’s looking for me
I want to be home
suddenly, I wake,
relieved it was just a dream,
but seemed so damned real
/382
Cyborg
my heart skips some beats,
not in a romantic way,
as aging proceeds
born nearly perfect,
but years take their cruel toll
—it’s time for repairs
my Linq snitched on me,
told my cardiologist
I need more implants
stuffed with devices,
my body’s just partly mine
—I’m a cyborg now
my new prognosis:
I may now live forever!
—thanks, Dr Eckart
Parts of the new me (l-r): Linq cardiac monitor, Watchman stroke prevention device, pacemaker /363
The Most Moral Choice
most living things die
by being eaten alive
by a predator
“selfish genes” don’t care
about our personal throes,
only our species
pain evolved to serve
the survival of our breed
at each one’s expense
what is life’s virtue
if its price is agony
of sentient beings?
our most moral choice:
bring no new life to the world,
prevent suffering
Image: Tamil Antinatalism /351
Descendancy
I fathered one child,
she birthed two more lovely lives
—when will my line end?
unless we die off,
my descendants may witness
planet’s final days
my heirs will suffer
Earth’s certain calamities
through millennia
untold extinctions
will spawn subspecies of us
—life will find a way
countless known unknowns
await the hapless creatures
I caused to exist
Image by AI (ImageFX) /349
Glidepath
descending apace
no refueling allowed
no airport’s ahead
at my window seat
between clouds of denial
I glimpse rising ground
writing haiku is
free inflight entertainment
a fun distraction
if life is well planned
remaining time and money
end on the same day
a painless crash, I hope
enjoy the rest of this trip
—a terminal flight
/335
Have I Made a Difference?
most mortals hope to
leave the world a better place
as their exit nears
my career’s true north
was teaching peacemaking skills
for both work and home
I often wonder
where and when those talking tools
made a difference:
in lands I’ve not seen?
in languages I don’t speak?
in lives not yet lived?
now, I write haiku
a frivolous exercise,
but may help someone?
Teaching conflict resolution at Univ of Hartford, 1979 /311
failing socially
failing academically
failing with women
my future looked bleak
happiness felt beyond reach
I despaired of hope
a flash of insight
one day brightened my dark sky
—I could end my life!
I’d found a way out
of my doom’s dreary prison
I was free to choose!
so … do it today?
there’s no rush, I decided
—and there still isn’t
Setting: Freshman year, University of Missouri (1963-64) Photo: Return visit to campus with Susan (2019) /274
I Forgot to Ask
Grandpa, where were you
when the First World War broke out?
I forgot to ask
Grandma, tell me tales
about your mother’s mother
Dad, how did you choose
your career, and your first wife?
I forgot to ask
Mom, what did you like
about Dad when you first met?
I forgot to ask
kids, I’m getting old
anything you’d like to know?
don’t forget to ask
My mom on her final birthday (2008) /228
My Bucket List
yup, been there, done that
I have sailed Earth’s seven seas
I’ve climbed Rockies’ peaks
untold adventures
stored in my memory bank
life’s been great … still is
old age marches forth
contentment replaces thrill
pleasure’s in small things
gazing on the bay
admiring other men’s boats
glad they are not mine
to live happily
doing bits of good each day
—that’s my bucket list
/224
Five Seconds Left to Live
five seconds to live:
asleep, the usual dreams
not a care, all’s well
four seconds to live:
I’m falling! … is this a dream?
panic jolts slumber
three seconds to live:
deafening roar, chaos whelms
what is happening?
two seconds to live:
NO! this can’t be real! STOP! HELP!
is this how I die?
one second to live:
final breath crushed from my chest
death’s abyss … the end
Condo collapse, Surfside, Florida, 24 July 2021, 1:30 a.m. Photo: CNN /216
Only a Mother Can Know
her soul-crushing loss
secreted behind a veil
of smiling good cheer
grief’s smothering shroud
cloaks her tomb of living death
gladness can’t enter
but few know her pain
mothers’ tear-drenched lost-child club
woe to those who join
pin-hole view each way:
our sweet love and lucky life;
her dark dismal cave
despair’s icy grip
can’t endure but can’t move on
none but moms can know
Her son’s foot molds in bronze (2016) /189
Final Moments
Covid’s victim horde*
enduring final moments
thoughts ebbing, alone
nurse’s tear-wet face
ventilator’s steady beat
light fading to black
I wish you comfort
know your life was not in vain
your good deeds remain
yielding to abyss
at eternal Nothing’s door
pain is near its end
so, this is death, at last?
being loved by those you’ve loved
goodbye to the world
* Over 7,000,000 people have died of COVID-19 worldwide as of June 2024 (CNN and other sources) /166
On Nihilism: 1
the world is so big
the universe is so vast
I am so tiny
time is infinite
history spans forever
my life is so short
leaders fail their task
I see, care, but cannot do
I am powerless
I am but a drop
in the Sea of Existence,
insignificant
but I can watch, awed,
in the company of friends
‘til my movie ends
Photo: Technology /387
On Nihilism: 2
I will write haiku,
I’ll vote, pay tax, obey laws,
be kind to others
I cannot prevent
evil despots’ senseless wars,
children’s suffering
few will know I lived
when my dust returns to dust
and legacy fades
‘til then, here I am
observing my one moment,
awed that I exist
I’ll accept, not fight,
surrender my will to fate,
be. here. now. in peace
The haikuist in his moment /158
Along for the Ride
I’m a spectator
of world's unfolding drama
one unit of life
I’m not at the wheel
just a wide-eyed passenger
hurtling through spacetime
on Earth’s fragile skin
voyaging the vast unknown
along for the ride
immersed in deep awe
of this accidental trip
as long as it lasts
I'll binge on life’s feast
with gratitude for blind luck
'til my final bite
Our home-hatched chick out for a ride, much like me /151
Unspent Wealth
one lifetime’s gems
cast off as trifling pebbles
of dubious worth
my world-wise elders
went to their final abyss,
their wealth left behind
young ones stay busy
tending to urgent matters,
as did I, back then
wishing I knew then
one ounce of what I now know
of life's rare riches
here, take this flotsam,
this memoir of unspent wealth,
my left-behind gems
Standing at exact site of my father’s 1874 pioneer cabin birthplace in Humboldt, Kansas, located in 2023 /137
Racing Against Time
this healthy old man
should survive Covid’s bad bug,
but still, there's a chance
this haiku e-book
may be my life’s legacy,
if finished in time
we social-distance,
we facemask responsibly,
our friend pool is small
rushing to complete,
and forward to publisher,
before I’m struck dead
Florida hotspot’s
not a safe place to hide while
racing against time
Selfie while composing this haiku, 28 July 2020 /123
Dylan Thomas and Me
quoth the young poet:
“rage, rage against the dying
of the light”—or not?
myself, I think not
—I’ll marvel in that moment,
what a trip I've had!
grateful for my Now,
thinking thoughts about this thought,
cosmos’ gift of mind
as this one-way ends,
savoring final moments,
drifting into void,
I intend to go
“gentle into that good night”
I was here—that's all*
* If I had faced death at age 39, I, too, may have raged. Dylan Thomas (1914-1953) /116
Jim’s Gift
final-exit day nearing,
to bid me farewell
I admire him so,
foresaw slippery slope’s brink
with clear-eyed courage
choice was his to make,
appraised remaining time’s worth,
as is Reason's way
his life amply lived,
left this world a better place,
his friends enriched
Jim’s last gift to me:
clearer view of road ahead
—thank you, my wise friend
Inspired by Jim C. Image by AI (ImageFX) /100
Life’s a Movie
we’re in this wild show,
director’s chair sits vacant,
stage feels oddly real
comic bits bring laughs,
some so scary I can’t watch,
tragic scenes bring tears
take a seat, my friend
relax, it’s not about us,
let's watch together
que será, será
whatever will be, will be
will be fun to see
grim spoiler alert:
finale is known: The End
meanwhile, share popcorn
Image by AI (ImageFX) /70
Death’s Silver Lining
a child’s death grieves us,
loved ones left to mourn their loss,
a young life cut short
thin silver lining:
no progeny will follow,
countless lives unlived,
myriad deaths spared,
war, misery, torment, fear
in longtermism’s view
would joy outweigh pain?
antinatalists question:
better not to live?
we fortunate few
know but this cloudless moment
in life’s roiling storm
/61
Just You and Me
for nine loving months
before birthing, sharing you
with the waiting world
it was just you and me
I nursed you to life,
I fiercely held you to me,
I protected you
now you're gone, so gone,
lost to my sore, sobbing soul,
no soft skin to sooth
none knew you like me,
none loved how I loved you,
no one cared like me
my mother-love aches,
you remain inside me still,
a hole in my heart
again, it's just you and me
Mother and son shortly before his death (2015) /47
we seldom ask: why
life's bowl of tasty cherries
enjoyed by so few?
pain trumps pleasure on
history’s skewed balance sheet,
ask evil's victims
animal cousins
suffer death by predator,
or meat factory
evolution’s tool:
pain serves genome’s goal, not ours,
in life’s lethal game
ethicists debate,
consensus is not truth’s proof,
paradigms can shift
Image: Antinatalism International /35
Package Deal
I’m nearly eighty
can’t recall your name, dang it!
one of aging’s peeves
ambition’s kaput
energy tank’s running low
that’s how I roll, friends
trade brains with teen boy?
only if I keep wisdom
from life’s lessons learned
libido? don’t ask
testosterone? good riddance!
I’ll keep these old bones
body’s loss: mind’s gain
can’t have one without other
it’s a package deal
/10
When I Die
as life leaves this eye,
what will I say to the world
at final exit?
as Mother Cosmos
retrieves borrowed molecules:
“deep thanks for the loan!”
awesome luck at birth
fate’s whim smiled kindly on me,
vastly more than most
I'll live 'til I don't,
the day not yet known to me,
but I choose to choose
my life, not others’
until it slips from my grasp,
it’s mine to decide
Selfie /9
Survival
beaucoup close calls in
this bumpy eighty-year romp,
tons of lucky breaks:
motorcycle crash:
Honduran priests saved my butt,
kept souvenir scars
Vietnam antics:
hazy memories survive,
Bronze Star for ganja
now safely cocooned
in Sarasota treehouse
for the duration
few dangers ahead
except the one that kills me
… patiently waiting
Selfie /103
A Whimsy of Fate
as a kid, I thought
my life would last forever,
death hid behind Now
grown, in the abstract,
I understood I must die,
but distant specter
now nearing eighty,
as my life’s been mostly lived,
death’s shroud is slipping
my mom, at ninety,
murmured “it went by so fast!”
she died the next day
on the cosmic scale
my scant existence is but
a whimsy of fate
Ultra Deep Field by NASA’s Webb Telescope. Most dots are one of the two trillion galaxies in the observable universe, up to 13.2 billion lightyears away in spacetime. Our Milky Way galaxy contains 400 billion stars. Our sun is one ordinary star. Scale is beyond comprehension. /342
Rest In Peace
closer to life's end
than to its brash beginning,
I watch curtains close
at an odd remove,
as from a far mountaintop
through rose-colored lens
but for you young ones
and those zillions yet to live,
my bleeding heart grieves
what will beset you?
what torment will you endure?
what fate will snare you?
meanwhile, life is good
I’ve lived in charmed time and place
I’m resting in peace
/107
My Dad’s Earthly Afterlife
smoking was not blamed,
no one knew it was cancer
that was killing him
coughing up dark blood
he got sick in mid-winter,
did he see his fate?
I am his youngest,
us kids stayed with Grandmother
to shield us, I s’pose
last time I saw him,
snaked tubes in oxygen tent,
he was not moving
and then he was gone …
glimpsed in wistful, wishful dreams
he still breathes in me
J. W. Dana and family (1952) /272
Misplaced Grief
when I die, I’ll cease,
no missed bucket-list regrets,
just pure nothingness
I’m not who will grieve,
you may mourn your loss of me,
a missed kith or kin
culture’s vain last rite,
my funeral’s not for me,
I will not be there
celebrate my life,
it’s been one hell of a ride
—then, get on with yours
I’ll drink life’s last drop,
but if the end’s too bitter,
please pass the hemlock
/220
My Afterlife
my molecules may
join other Earthly life-forms:
mouse, bird, fish, worm, tree
as dad, my genes will
walk, talk, think, feel, reproduce
through offspring’s tenure
my atoms will roam
worldwide ‘til Earth’s final gasp
five billion years hence
Sun’s sons will explode:
generations of star-stuff,
my galactic tour
as teacher-writer,
some remnants may last awhile
—perhaps this haiku?
/169
Region 3
Humanism
Humanism: A secular worldview whose central concern is the wellbeing of people and other sentient animals. Humanists regard scientific empiricism as the only way to achieve knowledge of objective reality, eschewing religion and other supernaturalistic beliefs.
I have not always been an atheist. Reared on a family farm in the Protestant Christian milieu of the American Midwest, I absorbed the cultural and religious dogma of my community. I had never knowingly met an atheist.
In childhood, as now, I was drawn to existential wonderings about the Big Questions: Who am I? Why am I here? When will I die? What happened before and what comes next? The answers imparted weekly by our country preacher failed to quiet my persistent questioning.
At about age fifteen I met Gary, the visiting teenage grandson of rural neighbors, who gave me a small book by British philosopher Bertrand Russell. Gary was my first atheist. As dogma’s cataracts peeled away, I began to see fresh light. Russell’s clear-eyed rationality upended the blind faith I had inherited.
Leaving the farm for college and the wider world, I was exposed to scientific empiricism—rational inquiry using factual evidence—as an alternative means of knowing. I had thus found a better way to answer my questions than through the muddle of divine revelation and religious authority.
These pages contain 22 poetic glimpses into the secular-humanist worldview that replaced the supernaturalism of my childhood faith. See my 2014 book The Reason Revolution: Atheism, Secular Humanism, and the Collapse of Religion for a concise, non-poetic narrative.
I recognize that not every reader will concur with my non-theistic, non-supernaturalist, secular-humanist paradigm. Those who share my wonder about the natural world may find these verses interesting, perhaps confirmatory, even transformative—I refer you to Ode to Bertrand Russell, below. Those who are content with a metaphysical faith that involves immaterial entities lying outside the objective universe (deities, afterlife, soul, spirits) may not wish to linger here. Or, you may dare to read boldly on, perhaps answering differently the questions that proved fatal to my adolescent faith.
Ode to Bertrand Russell
1872 - 1970
your words set me free
scales fell from wondering eyes,
correcting life's course
superstitions foiled,
country church's grip released,
dogma's chains broken
freethought flowed freely
in secular humanism's
sensible worldview
these sixty years on
I ponder the Universe
in your wise shadow
your book made me me,
enriched life beyond measure
—thank you, Lord Russell
Photo: Original copy of the book that changed my life in 1961 /150
I Tried
I read the bible,
I listened to Pastor Bob,
I pushed down my doubts
each Sunday morning
I sat still, as expected,
waiting for the light
Jews are confident
Catholics are sure they’re right
Muslims too, I’m told
Mom said to trust God
I feared the torture of Hell
could I deserve that?
my young faith faltered,
I tried to make sense of it
—in the end, I failed
The abandoned church of my childhood, Knoxville, Missouri. Photo, revisited March 15, 2022 /241
The Forbidden Question
this awkward schoolboy,
assigned to deep center field
by phys ed teacher
doubts had been brewing
about Sunday sermons’ truths
on slippery slope:
Heaven and Hell, real?
why does prayer seem not to work?
and … (I dared not ask!)
trembling, knees wobbling,
that forbidden question burst:
and … does God exist?
fly ball came my way
frozen by fear, I dropped it
—I had reached the edge
The awkward,
distracted boy /415
How Do You Not Ask?
do you not wonder:
is your faith the correct one
of all the others?
how to reconcile
settled science with your faith,
since both can’t be true?
does your life’s work rest
on confidence that you’re right
without crippling doubt?
since youth, I’ve scoured those
inescapable questions
—I could not NOT ask
not debating here,
I’m simply seeking to know,
how do you not ask?
Franciscan friar (London, 2023). His vows: “no money, no honey, no doubt” (poverty, chastity, faith) /392
Humanists
we care for people
in their natural lifetimes,
we’re good without gods
blind faith cannot see,
luring myths cloud our vision
of plain facts of life
inconvenient truth:
gods’ will and heaven’s bliss are
pre-science fake news
we’re born, then we die,
relish this one awesome trip,
savor life’s sweet scent
en route, please be kind,
love our fellow passengers
aboard this frail boat
Photo: loupiote /188
Is Atheism a Faith?
is atheism
a belief system like those
we call religions?
if no evidence,
is not-believing belief?
or simply reason?
is end of living
your afterlife’s beginning
if nothing happens?
can not-lifting-weights
be your daily exercise,
or just self-deceit?
I have a hobby:
not collecting foreign stamps,
saving precious time
/145
First God
Sarasota sun
once brightened African eyes
and wondering minds
six million years past,
who first pondered mysteries:
what is it? who knows?
gives us light, warmth, time
—no science, yet, to know facts,
so we made stuff up
yearning for answers,
myths fed their hungry wonder,
hence “gods of the gap”*
now, we know stars’ truth
but still worship Father Sun’s
apocryphal sons
* The land between scientific knowledge and unexplained natural phenomena, where religions reside /55
Christian Cosmologists
that most odd creature,
the “Christian Cosmologist,”
should now be extinct
but specimens live,
defying laws of physics,
though sightings are rare
perhaps they possess
supernatural power
over Reason’s rules?
I’m a stern skeptic
of my own cozy beliefs,
self-deception’s tricks
as a scientist*
I ask, where’s the evidence?
show me it’s not myth
* I’m a curious hobbyist, not a practicing researcher. /367
Pondering Infinity
“here” lies inbetween
multiverse and quantum world
on the cosmic scale
“now” spans time’s range from
Big Bang to eternity
twixt unsure end-points
mind’s eye is flummoxed,
infinity thwarts grasp of
limitless spacetime
as our inapt brain
collapses in sheer wonder
before Nature’s scale,
we confront failure:
magical thinking invents
“SUPERnatural”
/87
How Do I Love Thee?
God of all power,
Maker of the universe,
Knower of all things
Killer of children
by hunger, war, disease, hate,
where is Thy mercy?
Ally of fascists
who murder their enemies
who love other Gods
Denier of facts,
discoveries of science
that would disprove Thee
humans hath made Thee
of wishes and fantasies
—how can I love Thee?
Image by AI (ImageFX) /416
Cosmic Boundaries
after end of time,
before beginning of time,
beyond edge of space
what's on other side?
Big Bang spawned this universe,
what was there before?
nonsense questions, these?
human scale lacks good answers,
need more dimensions?
“empty” space expands,
quantum scale’s “spooky action,”
math sees what scopes can’t
reality’s bounds
surpass imagination,
science seeks to know
Photo by Hubble Space Telescope, NASA /71
What Is Nothing?
does spacetime exist
if there is no “stuff” in it?
—I’m just wondering
if there is no “here”
where could “there” possibly be?
—no distance between
if there is no “now”
when could “then” possibly be?
—no future, no past
what might it “look” like
if no light illluminates,
there’s no energy?
if every “thing” left,
if the Universe went blank,
what is left over?
These questions might appear frivolous, even silly. But “What is nothing?” is perhaps the most fundamental and perplexing question in cosmology.
Image: A metaphorical depiction (i.e., “something”) of “nothing” /359
Why Does Anything Exist?
how come existence?
the ultimate mystery
yet, we're here to ask
something from nothing?
why not just void empty space?
or not even that?
if god, then whence god?
prescience mystics conjured
some supernature
whence mathematics?
universe without numbers,
with nothing to count?
these vexing questions
are unanswerable, yet
I seem to exist!
/295
The Ultimate Question
why is there something,
existence of anything,
rather than nothing?
not the universe,
no empty space, no forces,
no gravitation
no laws of physics,
no spacetime, no quantum fields,
no mathematics
not even first cause,
nothing supernatural,
no one to know why
does this break your brain?
if not, perhaps you need to
repeat the question
Image: ESA Planck satellite showing the cosmic microwave background (relic light from the Big Bang) /15
We Are Accidental People
some million years past,
our concestor's mom conceived,
one sperm got there first
bested his brothers,
every human since descends
—but what if other?
what history then?
whole other population,
wars, leaders, prophets
that quirk’s chance result:
what is now would not have been,
same earth, other peeps
if other sperm won,
I would not be writing this,
nor you reading it
Image: Houston Museum of Natural Science. Our grandmother (10,000 generations ago). Fossil reconstruction from likely period of the most recent common ancestor (concestor) of all humans today. /74
I Am African (and You Are Too)
Swahili greeting:
Sisi ni watoto wa
Afrika ... jambo!*
ancestors left home
five thousand lifespans ago,
adventuring north
inching around globe,
caves sheltered us from peril,
cold, carnivores, death
Euro-myth debunked:
invasive species is us,
natives oust natives
our bloodlines alloy,
we're all family, my friend
—African cousins
* Translation: "We are all children of Africa … hey!"
Photo of personal art (Susan is a mom-baby nurse.) /108
My Nigerian Atheist Friend
half a world away
near-neighbors in cyberspace
he must hide his truth
wife, friends, family
die-hard zealots of dogma
religionists all
God's set men seek wealth
streets littered with loud churches
monstrous billboards shout
so many pastors
shrilling mindboggling song-sprees
launch zombie-like trance
African dark zone
be careful, my new-found friend
your words give me hope
Most words and phrases above are lifted from his emails to me. He's the poet; I am his haiku arranger. Image is a generic silhouette, not his likeness. He must remain anonymous for his safety from violent religious zealots and theocratic government. Image by AI (ImageFX) /41
A Neanderthal Day
this cave has sheltered
our clan since the Beginning,
and will Evermore
our stone and bone tools,
made by elders of elders,
are kept in their place
our cooking hearth warms
sleeping beds of grass and ash
under auroch skins
spear points are sharpened,
we will hunt cave lion soon,
my son is learning
my hand with ochre
I made wall painting today
—sons’ sons will know me
This typical day was replicated for 15,000 generations spanning 300,000 years until Neanderthal DNA became fully subsumed within Homo sapiens’ genome by interbreeding about 40,000 years ago. They were our direct ancestors. Modern monotheistic religions emerged only about 2000 years ago. Photo: Krapina Cave Museum diorama, Croatia /417
Life
life is natural
chemistry of universe,
Earth is not unique
four billion years on,
evolution continues,
we’re not its endpoint
Goldilocks zones* teem,
Drake Equation** calculates
trillions of wet worlds
Rover may perform
autopsy of ancient life,
Mars’ first coroner
exploring whether
life can find bio-niches,
if we’re not alone
* Distance from a star where liquid water can exist on planet’s surface
** The Drake Equation variants estimate the number of life-forms throughout the knowable universe
Selfie by Perseverance Rover on Mars (NASA, 2020) /126
Be Here Now
I let myself Be,
watching my mind watch itself
with no greater goal
in my place in space,
a perch in the universe,
let myself be Here
this moment is real,
future’s not yet, past is spent,
let myself be Now
don’t push the river,
it will flow all by itself,
I’m only flotsam
I don’t helm this boat,
a passenger on life’s trip,
along for the ride
/181
Celebrating Darwin Day: February 12
Covid’s on the hunt,
evolution’s not done yet,
hide behind your mask
nature’s famous law:
“survival of the fittest”
—stay healthy, humans!
our tasty bits tempt
hungry predator to binge,
she can’t eat just one
wily genes mutate,
natural selection works,
Darwin showed us how
seek gods’ protection?
or gain knowledge through science?
nothing fails like prayer
Charles Darwin, born 12 February 1809, photo 1877 /180
Happy Festivus
hail, winter solstice!
northern earthlings’ shortest day,
axis’ greatest tilt
let us celebrate
our Neolithic forebears’
Sun God’s next rebirth
Stonehenge pagans’ rites
or Saturnalia’s heirs
—pick a tradition:
Hanukkah, Christmas,
or mischievous Festivus*
for the rest of us
let’s join together
as secular humanists,
be kind and have fun!
* A parody holiday celebration first broadcast on a Seinfeld episode December 18, 1997. Image by AI (ImageFX) /393
Epilog
The Right Side of History
I want to be on
the right side of history
when it is written
my words live in print,
on offer to the wide world,
though seldom noticed:
P climate will kill us
P America’s star will fall
P religion is myth
P no, life is NOT good
P only science leads to truth
P love is the answer
some years(?) left to write
‘tiI I slip away, unseen,
my words remaining
/403
About Me
I am retired from a career in psychology, mediation, and education. I have authored two books on conflict resolution, one on secular humanism, and a current series consisting mostly of haiku quintets (an original art form devised in retirement).
Born in 1945 in rural Missouri, life experiences include:
· Serving in the U.S. Army in Vietnam (noncombat) and Panama Canal Zone (1966-1968)
· Earning a PhD in counseling psychology (University of Missouri, 1977)
· Teaching at University of Hartford (Connecticut) for 26 years and guest-lecturing at educational institutions on six continents
· Founding in 1985 and growing Mediation Training Institute, an Internet-based educational enterprise acquired in 2013 by Eckerd College (St Petersburg, Florida) and currently operated there
· Being a candidate for the U.S. House of Representatives (1998)
· Living, working, or traveling in over 85 countries and seven continents
Susan and I live in Sarasota, Florida. I am the father of one and grandfather of two.
Acknowledgements
Who knows where poetry comes from?
Only I (admittedly with the aid of online thesauri) composed, edited, and diligently revised these verses, whose nuances arose from deep wells of experience and emotion that often were a discovery to myself. Yet, none would exist without the inspiration, support, and influence of people listed below. So, I’m not the only author of this book. With gratitude, I acknowledge:
· LWR Scribes, a writers group in Sarasota, Florida
· Humanists of Sarasota Bay
· Assorted friends—you know who you are
· My family of origin, living and dead
· Su, my daughter
· Seamus and Claribel, my grandchildren, whose very existence motivated and inspired these verses far more profoundly and complexly than they know, a fact I hope they will someday, in moments of quiet reflection, recognize
· Susan, my muse, my artist model, my cohabitee, my primary love-object, my best friend, my other half
Other Books
Post-retirement:
· The Reason Revolution: Atheism, Secular Humanism, and the Collapse of Religion
· Haiku Quintets
· Science and Secularism: Haiku Quintets and Other Musings
· A Life Mostly Lived: True Stories in 85 Syllables
· Diary of a Young Man, 1968-1969: Coming of Age at a Cultural Crossroads
· Songs of the Pandemic: World Haiku
· Common Ground: Haiku, Mediation, and Police Reform
· Resisting Trumpism: Haiku Quintets
Pre-retirement
· Managing Differences: How to Build Better Relationships at Work and Home (MTI Publications), in multiple languages
· Conflict Resolution: Mediation Tools for Everyday Worklife (McGraw-Hill), in multiple languages
· Talk It Out: 4 Steps to Managing People Problems in Your Organization (Kogan Page)