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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?

    Saturday, March 31, 2007

    Ferry Landing

    Ferry Landing —
    two gulls fight
    over a cigarette butt

     

    Friday, March 30, 2007

    Friday night

    Friday night —
    a limo pulls up
    to the Hard Rock Cafe

     

    Thursday, March 29, 2007

    Wellesley rush hour

    Wellesley rush hour —
    two BMWs
    lock horns

     

    Wednesday, March 28, 2007

    No Service

    Confirmed: the man talking to himself is not wearing a bluetooth headset. A kind-hearted tourist trys to give him a dollar, but he keeps on staring at the third rail.

    The robot conductor is announcing every stop as Central Square. Good thing no one pays attention to him anyway.

    I tell everyone that I can see the old Harvard Square station just before we enter the new one, but nobody believes me. Take heart, Whitey Bulger: your secret is safe.

     

    Tuesday, March 27, 2007

    overcast

    overcast —
    a beggar looks away
    when I walk by

     

    Friday, March 23, 2007

    snowmelt

    snowmelt —
    the neighbors’ trash
    in our yard

     

    Wednesday, March 21, 2007

    moonless night

    moonless night —
    I can’t remember
    the color
    of her eyes

     

    Wellesley Square

    Wellesley Square —
    a jogging couple’s
    matching wool mittens

     

    Tuesday, March 20, 2007

    equinox

    equinox —
    a lawyer faxes me
    a copy of the Will

     

    Monday, March 19, 2007

    new moon

    new moon —
    my son describes
    his dream tattoo

     

    Sunday, March 18, 2007

    fresh snow

    fresh snow —
    the dog’s nose disappears
    into a footprint

     

    Saturday, March 17, 2007

    dirty snow

    dirty snow —
    my father-in-law’s estate
    in a spreadsheet

     

    Friday, March 16, 2007

    storm clouds

    storm clouds —
    a red-tailed hawk
    with a broken wing

    for KZL

     

    Thursday, March 15, 2007

    broken clouds

    broken clouds —
    a mockingbird cries
    “uh-oh!”

    Naples, FL

     

    Tuesday, March 13, 2007

    Florida gridlock

    Florida gridlock —
    turkey vultures
    circle overhead

    somewhere north of Tampa on I-75

     

    Monday, March 12, 2007

    partly cloudy

    partly cloudy —
    my father-in-law
    forgets his punchline

    Zephyrhills, FL

     

    Sunday, March 11, 2007

    daylight savings time revisited

    I’d love to have that hour back...
    not that I object to
    a well-intentioned illusion
    but I’m better misconstrued
    in honest twilight.

    hence the dilemma:
    what would I do
    with another sixty minutes
    and the wisdom of another day?
    swallow my words
    with a stiff whiskey chaser
    and gaze not an inch
    beyond your eyes.

     

    Tuesday, March 06, 2007

    cold snap

    cold snap —
    my mother forgets the date
    of my next visit

     

    Monday, March 05, 2007

    waiting for the train

    waiting for the train
    a software engineer
    plays air guitar

     

    Sunday, March 04, 2007

    total eclipse

    total eclipse —
    the dog
    has all the blankets

     

    Saturday, March 03, 2007

    the ex-factor

    Truer words were never spoken: love may fade, but an ex is forever. The end of a relationship has inspired many a poetic pity party, and more than a few haiku. Speaking for myself, I’ve been mining this particular topic for nearly 13 years, starting with a haiku I wrote while trying to adjust to my suddenly single status:

    recently separated —
    still reaching
    for the ring

    A few years, and many thousands of dollars in legal fees later, my tone changed dramatically:

    threat of frost —
    my ex-wife
    enters the court room

    Since then, my perspective has run the gamut from sadness:

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

    to bitterness and angst:

    speaking with my ex-wife
    I break open a peanut
    and eat the shell

    cold drizzle —
    my ex-wife’s voice
    on the answering machine

    to unfettered nastiness:

    the old tugboat
    pushes a rusty barge —
    my ex-wife’s plus-sized dress

    while the sparrows wait
    a fat squirrel
    empties the bird feeder

    I know I should be a kinder, gentler haiku poet, but I just can’t help myself...

     

    Friday, March 02, 2007

    March

    March —
    a broken umbrella
    crosses the street

     

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