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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, February 27, 2006

    first day on the job

    first day on the job —
    my new phone number
    doesn’t spell anything

     

    Saturday, February 25, 2006

    running for the bus

    running for the bus —
    the smiling supermodel
    on the billboard

     

    Thursday, February 23, 2006

    moving day (part two)

    moving day —
    my fifth anniversary clock
    no longer ticking

     

    Wednesday, February 22, 2006

    moving day

    moving day —
    my married daughter’s
    baby photo

     

    Tuesday, February 21, 2006

    winter overcast

    winter overcast —
    my ex-wife’s photo
    in an old book

     

    Monday, February 20, 2006

    Presidents’ Day

    Presidents’ Day —
    bombs kill 17
    in Iraq

     

    Saturday, February 18, 2006

    snow squall

    snow squall —
    I forget
    what I was saying

     

    church bells

     

    Thursday, February 16, 2006

    signs of spring

    signs of spring —
    fresh graffiti
    on a downtown train

    signs of spring —
    the homeless man’s
    brand new sneakers

    signs of spring —
    a bikini-clad
    mannequin

     

    Tuesday, February 14, 2006

    Valentine's Day

    Valentine’s Day —
    the world’s greatest lover
    gets to walk the dog

     

    Monday, February 13, 2006

    Valentine's Day

    Valentine’s Day —
    an extra olive
    in my Bloody Mary

     

    Sunday, February 12, 2006

    leaving Belize

    Maya Beach, 10 February 2006

    leaving Belize —
    our taxi narrowly misses
    the iguana

     

    under cloudy skies

    Maya Beach, 9 February 2006

    under cloudy skies —
    a stray puppy
    pouncing on flies

    last day of vacation —
    we read our books on the beach
    under cloudy skies

     

    happy hour

    Placencia, 8 February 2006

    happy hour —
    a stray dog
    wags its tail

    happy hour —
    the security guard
    lights a spliff

     

    the dive bar by the sea

    Maya Beach, 7 February 2006


    a sickly dog scratches itself at the foot of our table. with my Belikin bottle I slowly grind a hole through the soggy brown coaster, while a gecko sprints from behind a dart board to the thatched palm fronds of the ceiling. we are more than halfway through our vacation: just long enough to forget about time; still knowing that it hasn’t forgotten about us.

    outside, a dump truck belches diesel when it downshifts for a speed bump. it’s then that you quietly remind me that it’s my turn to pay.

     

    book of dreamlessness

    Maya Beach, 5 February 2006


    I can’t remember a single dream I’ve had since getting here, but the vultures circling overhead... and what’s that awful smell? why all of those dogs barking? can’t just call 911 and wait for the rush of sirens — not here. surel some kindly stranger or concerned neighbor... I lock all the doors, turn out the lights and carefully sweep the darkness in search of my beer.

     

    Super Bowl Sunday

    Maya Beach, 5 February 2006

    Super Bowl Sunday —
    ants surround
    a drop of jam

     

    cloudy day

    Placencia, 4 February 2006

    cloudy day —
    a little girl cries
    while her hair is braided

    cloudy day —
    a pile of trash burns
    at the end of the sidewalk

    cloudy day —
    the bartender says
    he doesn’t remember me

     

    Ground Hog Day

    Maya Beach, 3 February 2006

    Ground Hog Day —
    the shadow of our jet
    against the clouds

    Ground Hog Day —
    a gecko disappears
    behind the shower curtain

     

    Wednesday, February 01, 2006

    first day of February

    first day of February —
    ice on the snow on the ice
    of my driveway

     

    gone daddy gone

    In less than 24 hours Mrs. Bitter and I will be boarding a plane for Placencia, Belize, where we will be spending 8 days in a virtual decompression chamber called vacation. Our goal is to avoid snow, ice, frost, impatient customers, incompetent suppliers, ineffective management, impeachable presidents, incessant phones, irrepressible faxes and inconsiderate pages. Instead our plan is to indulge in the warm sunshine of an isolated third-world Central American country, where English is grudgingly spoken as the “official” language and the choices for beer are Belikin and a semi-polite smirk. We will attempt to muster the courage to resist the urge to patronize the local internet cafe. We will attempt to read all of those books that have been collecting dust in a stack next to the bookshelf.

    I will bringing the following, listed in no particular order:

    Junky - William Burroughs
    Guided By Voices: a Brief History - James Greer
    Go - John Clellon Holmes
    Book of Dreams - Jack Kerouac
    Slanky - Mike Doughty
    A False Spring - Pat Jordan
    All the Presidents’ Pets - Mo Rocca


    Mrs. Bitter will take numerous photographs. I will write poetry on something other than a hand-held device. We will walk everywhere in sandals, shorts and cleverly imprinted t-shirts. And when we’re done with all of that, we'll do nothing. By then, of course, it will be time for us to come home.

     

    one day before vacation...

    one day before vacation
    I scrape the windshield
    to a reggae beat

     

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