Saturday, June 7, 2008

Some Notes on the Life of Wernher von Braun


Wernher was the first to theorize the existence of Tang.

For a few short weeks in 1944 Wernher personally added 10% more love to each V-2 rocket launched toward London.

Wernher had the second largest collection of used human skulls in the western hemisphere.

Wernher enjoyed the occasional wine spritzer.

As a child Wernher dreamed of becoming a concert pianist, but at the age of 8 his dreams were dashed when his fingers were mangled in a beer hall putsch.

Wernher Von Braun's real name was a state secret from 1945 until 1968.

Gospel Accordingly




1. Put my sins behind your back, saving one for the sleeve.
Death cannot sing your praise.
The grass withers and the flowers fall,
but do not be afraid.
The flesh cannot count the sheep of your worry.
Save your manna for the dogs,
eat my words oh prisoners of trust.

The stock market rises and falls but the interest lasts forever.

Traverse the eye of the needle head first,
listen for the present’s eternal bellow.
Watch the fool pick ocean glass for the sky fish
born from all this ferocious change.

God haunts the simplest questions:
What time is it? How are you doing?
When will it stop raining?

2. God haunts military idioms:
Death count.
tactical maneuvers.
Private. General.
Yes sir, no sir. Right away sir.

The general calls for a surge, but he is a private man.
He has spiritual experiences. He appreciates the joy or randomly satisfying
bowel movements. He prays for lower taxes, for his daughter’s Harvard admittance.
He bemoaned the demotion of Pluto to the lower ranks of planetoid.
Is there no justice, indeed.

3. The air strikes your fancy. Your fancy car,
your extensive digital music collection.
It’s in the atmosphere, the blood of your fancy.

Play poker with my sins. The ante will be low, like smoking in front of a baby.
The stakes, dramatic: like losing your soul to Wal Mart.
Bluff death at your own peril. Fold to beauty for beauty’s sake.
Stack my sins in neat columns, but don’t count them.
Better yet, lose all count.

If you find yourself wandering through the valley of Hamon Gog,
you know you’ve lost. You’ll have to listen for my voice
shaking the lupin that cover the countless graves.
This is what I’ll say:
“As you go through the land, if you see a human bone,
set up a marker beside it until gravediggers have buried it.
There you will eat the flesh of mighty men
and drink the blood of princes of the earth
as if they were the rams and lambs, goats and bulls –
all of them fattened animals from Washington.”

4. You are helpless, pigeonholed by a rival deity;
dear friends let us love one another.
Dear friends, keep yourselves from idols.
Rahab, the prostitute is here to set you free.

What good is voting when her tongue
has a much more selective imagination?
What good are words when her moans call the moon
to shine through your ceiling?
Like the breeze in a forgotten painting,
You will become her masterpiece.

Love her, love her, love her…
Even as the bread is leavened and the Romans raise another cross.