Thursday, April 7, 2016

rain outside the glass,
dripping down pine tree needles
into little pools

Monday, March 28, 2016

consolation prize
gathers dust on the mantle
next to empty slot

Monday, March 21, 2016

the grip of winter
over-stays its welcome
well into the spring

Thursday, March 17, 2016

outside my window:
little clusters of red buds,
heralds of the spring

Wednesday, March 9, 2016

warm March afternoon,
the snows of winter melted,
the birth of new things
unlikely event
outside the men's bathroom door:
a near collision

Monday, December 14, 2015

Sunday, liquor store...
the cashier gives me a look
as I buy whiskey

Sunday, December 13, 2015

branches in the sky,
leafless in the winter cold...
exposed arteries

Friday, December 11, 2015

morning fog recedes,
revealing the rolling hills
and winter bare trees

Thursday, December 10, 2015

bitcoin founder found,
Satoshi Nakamoto,
AKA Craig Wright
holiday coffee,
the dark of the solstice night
steaming in my cup
laptop heat exhaust
directed at my water,
bubbles form inside

Monday, December 7, 2015

warm December day,
the summer garments among
the holiday wreaths

Sunday, December 6, 2015

coffee and bagels,
breakfast for the day after
a drinking sesssion

Thursday, December 3, 2015

defect in the code —
a null pointer exception
thrown in this function
overhead a hawk...
still against a blue morning,
wings from sun to moon

Wednesday, December 2, 2015

December fog...
a row of haloed street lamps
through the tree branches
letting go
of that which matters most
is Buddha-nature
rain in December...
bad time for car battery
to have low voltage
a promise of love
reverberates in the wind,

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

time is all that's left,
a currency deficient
of any value

Monday, November 30, 2015

my favorite month
swallows the brumal solstice...
the sun born anew
data points likely
made in main.js line

Friday, November 27, 2015

human consciousness —
series of statistical

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

November half-light...
sun's blood in the western sky
and the hallway floor
arcs in the night sky...
fixed paths for the stars to tread,
mirrors of our own
the moon is a fish
lazing in the pale blue ocean
of the vault above

Monday, November 23, 2015

mist on the windshield
reveals a hidden message
written years ago
autumnal palate
in the foliated leaves,
and the twilight skies

Saturday, November 21, 2015

shimmering on the edge
of the horizon outside
my small apartment
lights in the great dim,
red to green to red to green,
the flow of traffic

Friday, November 20, 2015

everything gray, dull...
the statue of the Buddha
as seen through the snow

snow on the Buddha...
everything still, motionless,
muted by the cold
yesterday's birthday
cake on the kitchen counter,
bits still stuck to it
rain on the window —
pitter-patter on the glass
makes sleep come easy
coffee stain in book,
evidence of a former reader...
we paused on same page

Thursday, November 19, 2015

morning light beyond,
in the bleakness of winter —
a promise of hope

sparrows on the wire,
silhouettes in the dawning
of the morning light
the overhead lamp:
dull, citrinated with age,
shadow of dead fly

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Radiohead song
playing on the old laptop...
remote, delicate
laundry on the line,
sunlight on the windowsill...
the empty tables
the city is one
organism, the road its veins,
and we its blood

Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Tranströmer the great
Scandinavian poet
died at eighty three
message from old friend,
same content as usual —
we orbit the truth
just airplane exhaust,
otherwise pristine azure
far as the eye sees

Monday, November 16, 2015

salmon horizon,
crescent moon in the blue vault,
and two airplane streaks
liquid on the tile
underneath the urinal...
should've tied my shoes
can't reproduce this
without the proper jar file;
come on, Apache!
arguing online,
no one's mind is ever changed...
why do I bother?
my thoughts are scattered
like foliage in the wind...
can't catch even one
only in your arms
can I find comfort at night —
at last: I can sleep
tossing and turning...
a light in the east wakes me
before my alarm

Sunday, November 15, 2015

a temporary respite
from quotidian troubles,
the smoke in my blood
November half-light,
the western sky all a-flame...
pinks mixed with the blue

overhead the sky
a deep crimson and pink
where just before, blue

fire in the west...
the clouds and the sky
all burning

Saturday, November 14, 2015

a senseless slaughter
in the capital of love —
Paris shall triumph
earlier sunsets —
even the sun flees before
the coming winter
the trumpets come out,
their music like a metal:
hard, malleable
space-time itself curves
in presence of energy,
what an idea!
Anse wants new teeth
and to bury his dead wife —
As I Lay Dying

Friday, November 13, 2015

bubbles in the glass
like little universes,
coming and going
gray shadow above
moves with the wind, east to west,
heralding the rain
the autumnal hills
are now monochromatic...
winter approaches

Thursday, November 12, 2015

mountain telescope
searches random patch of sky,
finds new dwarf planet

Wednesday, November 11, 2015

caught in the river,
everything washes away,
except for the moon
rain in November...
foliage in the puddle
hides my reflection
a democracy
requires of its populace
constant vigilance
no love for Bernie
from pretentious liberals —
where are your values?
rain on the windshield
washes away the insect
splattered on the glass

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

empty promises,
long ways of saying nothing,
I am not impressed
favorite polo,
a piece of the button gnawed
by little rat teeth
Babel Library...
story of our life and death
are already writ

Monday, November 9, 2015

inverted tree —
all its leaves
are at its roots
the hairs on my head
fall like dry autumnal leaves —
winter comes for all
leaping stone to stone,
in the waterfall plunge pool:
old man and his son
long drive through country,
the sun setting behind us,
time with my father

Sunday, November 8, 2015

Boston after dark...
the Charles river flows out east,
the town lights with it
night in the city...
a man yells out to people
about his hotdogs

Friday, November 6, 2015

week's end...
we meet again,
voice in the dark
cries out into my ear
in G minor
sitting at work,
looking at computer screen...
zoning out
iron behemoths
displacing the earth itself
to build new strip mall
ashes on bookshelf...
light maple box far too large
for her small remains
blood in the toilet,
she is overcome with joy:
no baby for us!
sitar string —
it's like tickling
my amygdala
zooming down highway —
flock of sparrows maneuver
as one organism

Thursday, November 5, 2015

foaming at the edge
of space; particles are born
then die and vanish
warm November day,
so much sun it is a shame
the trees have no leaves
soon I'll have to wake
but I've yet to fall asleep...
dawn waits for no one

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

crushing doubt
about every proposition
including this one
sun's breath
on the upper atmosphere,
a cosmic light show
old rat
studies apartment floor
to find lost cage-mate
elderly pet rat
searches for her lost sister,
who's buried outside
new band
assembles sounds
with great skill
morning sky,
white gossamer streak...
passengers in flight
bathroom mirror:
dim and warped...
is this really me?
behemoth on wheels
rolling into middle lane,
I'm in its shadow

Tuesday, November 3, 2015

on the wall,
crawling on wire legs:
the webmaster
early afternoon...
my attention is water
dripping through my hands
former apartment...
buried amid the flowers,
my pet rat's body
no single moment
is the same as another —
I've thought this before
virgin sheet of white...
fingers press the little keys:
words of love appear
shadows in the field —
cold figures in the half-light,
growing at day's edge

Monday, November 2, 2015

in the nameless void
where space itself is broken,
matter comes to die
the ceiling plaster
moves as wind blown desert sand
in my altered mind
my experiences —
those things piped down my channels,
signals from the world
rats in the sofa,
building their nests in the dark,
far from prying eyes
feels like the very inside
of my being

Sunday, November 1, 2015

roaming in the field,
feasting on autumnal grass,
four cows and a bull
I cannot consume
the flesh of an animal
if it is conscious
it has consciousness
if there is something that it
is like to be it
farm sanctuary —
a refuge for those destined
for the dinner plate
drive through the country,
golden trees on either side,
the road unfolding

Saturday, October 31, 2015

October's last day,
when we remember the dead,
and gorge on candy

a bacchanal night
for the youth of the city —
feasts of candied flesh
October's last day...
the harvest and the costumes,
energy of youth

Friday, October 30, 2015

time is almost up —
soon I'll be on my way,
speeding down highway
last day of the week,
sunset over autumn hills —
can't wait to get out
a little rainbow
caught in the edge of my glass
when I tilt my head
All Hallows' Eve eve,
deep within autumn's season —
childhood nostalgia
lady on the phone,
talking with great confidence —
what am I missing?
three shots of whiskey
to quiet the anxious mind
works for a short while

Thursday, October 29, 2015

warm October day,
russet leaves against blue sky,
their smell in the air
searching for doctor
through Kafkaesque insurance —
why must this be hard?
members, tuples, and sets,
dimensions, hierarchies —
a query language
sun breaks through the clouds,
illuminating the hills,
of red and gold trees
rain in the morning...
long and wet commute to work —
wont see her for hours

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

rain storm approaches...
the sun cowers behind the clouds
coming from beneath
start in debug mode...
show me where the errors are
so I can fix them
spinning in the light,
behind the shielding metal —
my microwave lunch
in the emptiness
a single note fills everything,
breaking the silence
leaves colored like fire,
all swirling in the updraft,
rustling in the dawn

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

freshly ground ganja
clings to the steel teeth of the
a light in the dark...
vapor fills the cylinder,
I breath it inward
fresh bruise in the sky,
and the office behind me —
soon it will be dark
small and indeterminate —
both dead and alive
the devil, hairless,
wandering the desert of
Cormac McCarthy
stale information
appears on my web browser —
need to clear my cache
strange metallic taste,
warping patterns in the walls,
the joy of colors
keep checking the phone
for a message from my wife —
the screen is empty
please say I didn't
forget my headphones in the
quiet morning rush
autumn colored drink
steams from my open thermos —
it's my morning fix
October morning
welcomes cold air from the north —
frost on the pumpkin
Air on the G String,
the alarm that wakes us up —
she makes me coffee

Monday, October 26, 2015

corpse on the roadside,
forgotten and discarded —
no one seems to care
walked by the window
to see autumn colored trees
through the shuttered blinds
built from the earth's clay
in the primordial light —
we are all machines
calm cotton clouds,
night falling on the city,
the horn of a train
first day back at work;
things are just as I left them —
the butterflies too