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about me
poet, technologist, cynic, father of five, child of chaos, punker, prankster, patriot, punster, leftist, latino, japanophile, audiophile, beer drinker, quiche eater, dog walker, soft talker, deep thinker, shallow sleeper, introvert, covert operative in a parallel universe.

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  •  

    extra special bitter
    hops are bitter. life is bitter. coincidence?

    Monday, September 25, 2006

    Denouement

    Returning to the cacoon, it's begun to begin again: the seed spoiled, the weeds in command. It's supposed to be a renaissance of my own making, but it's taken on the air of concession; it's an accident waiting to be avoided with reflexes that have been dulled with ennui. To skid, to swerve, to plunge into the abyss: it's a game of inches, and nobody's winning.

    Another bloodless coup. Another upheaval within the infinite emptiness of my unbelieving soul because of the blood that screams incessantly into the void of my unwavering guilt.

     

    Mathematics

    Two nights ago the Red Sox were mathematically eliminated from the post-season. It was very much an anti-climax, since it was clear that the team had collectively surrendered after being swept in a five-game series against the Yankees at Fenway more than a month earlier. Why did it take so long for Math to catch up to reality?

    In college, I majored in Chemistry, Biology, Psychology and - lastly - Computer Science. I never majored in the only subject in which I consistently received straight A’s: Math.

    I love Math. I hate its inevitable conclusions. X will never equal Y. Why? Because I’m a poet, that’s why.

     

    last day on the job



    last day on the job —
    the bitter aftertaste
    of afternoon coffee

     

    Wednesday, September 20, 2006

    writer's block

    writer’s block —
    the dog sniffs
    every tree

     

    Tuesday, September 19, 2006

    autumn rain

    autumn rain —
    I put away
    my Red Sox cap

     

    Wednesday, September 13, 2006

    for Bethany

    my daughter’s birthday —
    a sunflower rises
    above the weeds

     

    Monday, September 11, 2006

    September

    September —
    the weeds in our garden
    start to turn brown

     

    Friday, September 08, 2006

    back to school


    photo by mmm

     

    Thursday, September 07, 2006

    harvest moon

    harvest moon —
    a shopping cart
    full of beer cans

     

    Tuesday, September 05, 2006

    ocho

    our eighth anniversary —
    the dog lies down
    between us

     

    Monday, September 04, 2006

    Labor Day

    Labor Day...
    I sleep
    ’til noon

     

    September

    September has always been a pivotal month for me. In September 1963, my youngest brother was born, usurping my status as Favorite Son. In September 1964, I returned from a trip to Puerto Rico with a bad cold. By December I was hospitalized with nephritis. I missed six months of kindergarten and remained sickly throught my childhood. On September 11, 1982, I married my first wife. Two years later, also in September, we had our second child. On September 9, 1996, we were divorced. Two weeks later, I wrote this poem. On September 5, 1998, I married Mrs. Bitter. I had finally redeemed the month of September. Then came September 11, 2001...

     

    war headlines

    war headlines —
    a leaf falls
    to the ground

     

    Saturday, September 02, 2006

    September

    September —
    just saying it
    makes me shiver

     

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