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

consolation prize
gathers dust on the mantle
next to empty slot

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

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

warm March afternoon,
the snows of winter melted,
the birth of new things
∎

unlikely event
outside the men's bathroom door:
a near collision

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

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

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

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

warm December day,
the summer garments among
the holiday wreaths

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

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

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,
attenuating

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

my favorite month
swallows the brumal solstice...
the sun born anew
∎

data points likely

made in main.js line

61683

human consciousness —
series of statistical
classifications

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

mist on the windshield
reveals a hidden message
written years ago
∎

autumnal palate
in the foliated leaves,
and the twilight skies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

week's end...
we meet again,
briefly
∎

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

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

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

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

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
∎

melting...
feels like the very inside
of my being

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

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

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

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

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

freshly ground ganja
clings to the steel teeth of the
paraphernalia

               ~

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
∎

inconceivably
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

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