An ardent environmentalist, a dedicated activist, entrepreneur, designer, and a stay-at-home father, I get my electricity from the wind, my hope from my friends, my inspiration from the rivers of the West, and my fire from the corrupt actions of the corpratocracy we suffer under.

I enjoy the love of my wife, flying kites, standing in rivers, napping under trees, playing with my daughters, listening to DRM-free music, pushing pixels with my Macs, and throwing frisbees for my dog.

For My Grandson

by Alexander Laing

Your blood runs muddled,

My polyglot,

From Dutch and English

And Welsh and Scot;

But to honor you

In this year of shame,

We have named you DAVID

A Jewish name.

Upon your hand--

A scant inch long--

We lay the sense

Of your brother’s wrong.

To this frail case

Of gristle and skin

We trust the fortunes

of all your kin--

Your Negro brother,

Your brother the Jew--

Of all who suffer

From being few.

In cruel times

For a child to share

Your mother has dropped you

Well aware

That flesh must carry

The mind’s high stake,

Since the world we have

In the world we make.

Let nothing rob you

Of discontent.

Your thin, first protest

Was early spent--

A cradle tempest,

Not loud, not long--

But your puny anger

Will yet be strong;

And we bid you nurse it,

While we nurse you,

To turn on Gentiles

Who hate the Jew,

On gentlemen

Who in pride of race

Would burn black problems

They dare not face.

Poor and lucky,

We can ill afford

A silver spoon

Or a silver cord;

But your name is David--

We bring you, instead,

One smooth flat stone

From the clean brook bed,

And with this for a birthright

May you, at length,

Have little of comfort

Much of strength,

We could wish you homeless

Under a ledge

With a mind that burns

Through the skull’s thin edge--

Better so,

In the steety rain,

Than plump and cozy

In belly and brain.

For there’s work to be done

All all’s not well.

The giants we fostered

Are yours to fell.

The peace we squandered

Is yours to win,

By anger flashed outward

And hate held in.

Let these be single

When each is great;

Anger blown clear

Of the coals of hate--

Keep hate for ideas,

Anger for men,

Now the fools of evil

Are loose again.

And when metals cancel

And wits lock fast

One smooth flat stone

Can win at the last,

Through fear and the will

To master fear

With the sling of David.

The giants are here.