Heredity, time’s meter maid

      never writes a warning —

               the laptop of history

never loses your name.

        Data in a vein of data.

                 Centrifuge and swirl.

The gravity of the past,

         tugs us like some listing ship

                into electric seas —

watery genes you and I share.

My friend Dean Rader’s new poetry book, Works and Days, just won the 2010 T.S. Eliot Poetry Prize. Well done, Dean. 

The book is truly deserving of your $15.95, especially if you haven’t read any poetry in awhile. It’s weird how much this poem is grabbing me, considering that 32 will be my next birthday. You can pick it up here.