Nicene Creed in XML

For a bit of geeky fun, practiced some xml coding basics by writing the Nicene Creed in xml. Well here you go:

<?xml version=”1.0″?>

<credo alt=”I Believe in”>

   <God max_num=1 min_num=1 persons=3 created=no>

        <person id=”Father”>



          <created through=Son>







       <person id=”Son” num=1 created=no begotten=yes>


          <title>”Jesus Christ”</title>



          <substance same_as=Father>divine</substance>

          <Salvation History>

             <event by=Holy_Spirit through=Virgin_Mary>Incarnation</event>

             <event for=humanity under=Pontius Pilate>Crucifixion</event>

              <event length=3_days>Death</event>

              <event accordance_with=Scriptures>Resurrection</event>





           </Salvation History>


      <person id=”Holy Spirit” num=1 created=no>


         <title>”Giver of Life”</title>



         <event>”spoken through the prophets”</event>













   <Baptism num=1 for=”Forgiveness of Sins”></Baptism>



   <event>”resurrection of the dead”</event>

   <event>”life of the world to come”</event>



Haven’t had this much useless geeky learning fun since using “The Hokey Pokey” as my example for my Microsoft Project class.

Poem: The Real Work

It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.

The mind that is not baffled is not employed.

The impeded stream is the one that sings.

— Wendell Berry
Wendell Berry is one of my all-time favorite poets. This is a little gem of his I just now discovered. As it happens, this applies to where I am at work right now. Kind of at a crossroads between projects. Just when I am feeling a little lost Poetry comes to the rescue.

I think I know…

..what I need this place to be. I have Facebook for interaction and quick “status” updates. My “readership” is far higher there than this place will ever have.

I do more actual “blogging” (in the original sense of the word weblog) on Facebook now. I share my latest finds and likes there. This “blog” is no longer really a blog.

But what this does is give me a place to put things I like, things I need, things I want to remember I wrote, things I’ll need to refer to later. It will also give my friends and family something to know me by, something they can read about me or about my life with them. I have a need to collect the stuff I do and make it available.

After 10 years of journaling or “blogging” I realize that this have become kind of a legacy. I have responsibility to maintain this since it captures so much of me and my family, things that otherwise get lost.

And it is good that Future Me will have something to look back and remember and maybe have a good laugh at the fool Past Me truly was.

Looking for Zita Marie

One of my favorite poets ever was one I remember from back in the early days of the internet when Usenet was abuzz and poets cliqued, critiqued, and flamed each other on a discussion group called rec.arts.poems. My fave was a scientist/poet called Zita Marie Evensen. I loved her poems. Anyone who could conjur the phrase “bitchin’ heuristics” and weave quantum physics into love poetry was alright by me.

What little internet archeology I had time for did not turn up recent traces of Zita Marie Evensen. I was hoping to find her chapbook on some small press site or a blog of her post-Usenet adventures somewhere in the ether. Instead I found evidence that she might have gotten scorched in the flame wars that eventually burned down most of Usenet. Maybe she went on to write more poetry. Maybe she shares it only with a certain lover. Maybe she jots it in the margins of her day planner as she strolls about the halls of (what? academia? a hospital? a secret weapons facility?) wherever it is she weaves poetry, love, and science into the cloth of her society.

I figure I’ll just scoop her poetry out of the cold archives of rec.arts.poems and place it here on the windowsill of my new blog. If only to give it some light. Maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll send me a “cease and desist” letter asking me to return her poems back to digital obscurity. And I would comply, provided I could have her book in my poetry collection.

please forgive me for i have sinned

please forgive me for i have sinned
my last confession was a timeless while ago

i blithely sang songs to the stars
and thought the melody so sweet
not knowing it’d fall back as rain
and waken dreamers from their sleep

i fashioned a nosegay out of  words
seeing that i have nothing to give
but as i walked back to myself
i crushed the petals with my feet

i held the seasons of your mind
keep  summer-spring forevermore
looking out in space and time
you heard frosted windows break

i gave my poems for you to read
like one red rose   a simple gift
how could i know
how could i know


zita maria evensen
c1993 aug 28

and one more…

i am one rainbow someone

that’s who i am
i see no borders
i am a crossword genome
of cosmic stardust and
the elemental woman

i am very selfish
with my laughters and my pains
you have no right  no right
to see my marble box
of calico agates and black stones
– i refuse to scream
or cry or go to
wide-web confessions

instead  i will tease you
to laughter   paint you
merry-teary words
teach you bitchin’ heuristics
of love and loving
and dance with stars
at mind-warp speed

i am a rainbow someone
who knows  who knows
i own my hurt
and you have no right
to share them

but silently ever
so silently
i will make sure
you understand

(c) 1 juni 1994

Movers are here! (and a poem)

All my posts have been delivered from my old blog. My web past has been preserved.Thanks again to Matt Mullenweg and his man Otto who helped get my pathetic disheveled blog self into these new digs!

Now I need to decide what my blog future holds, what a blog means in the age of Facebook and daily hyper micro sharing. I need to decide what to unpack and what to store, what rooms to build out and what to leave bare with potential.

I do know that I never intend to quit using this place to collect my favorite poetry. I’ll set this one, freshly picked, down right here:


Kevin Hart

There’s nothing that I really want:
The stars tonight are rich and cold
Above my house that vaguely broods
Upon a path soon lost in dark.

My dinner plate is chipped all round
(It tells me that I’ve changed a lot);
My glass is cracked all down one side
(It shows there is a path for me).

My hands—I rest my head on them.
My eyes—I rest my mind on them.
There’s nothing that I really need
Before I set out on that path.


from Gettysburg Review
Volume 19, Number 3, Autumn 2006, page 470