you need this

Subscribe to
Posts [Atom]

extra special blogs

 

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.

View my complete profile



* m a y s t a r *
designs

archives
  • September 2004
  • October 2004
  • November 2004
  • December 2004
  • January 2005
  • February 2005
  • March 2005
  • April 2005
  • May 2005
  • June 2005
  • July 2005
  • August 2005
  • September 2005
  • October 2005
  • November 2005
  • December 2005
  • January 2006
  • February 2006
  • March 2006
  • April 2006
  • May 2006
  • June 2006
  • July 2006
  • August 2006
  • September 2006
  • October 2006
  • November 2006
  • December 2006
  • January 2007
  • February 2007
  • March 2007
  • April 2007
  • May 2007
  • June 2007
  • July 2007
  • August 2007
  • September 2007
  • October 2007
  • November 2007
  • December 2007
  • January 2008
  • February 2008
  • March 2008
  • April 2008
  • May 2008
  • June 2008
  • July 2008
  • August 2008
  • September 2008
  • October 2008
  • November 2008
  • December 2008
  • January 2009
  • February 2009
  • March 2009
  • April 2009
  • May 2009
  • June 2009
  • August 2009
  • September 2009
  • October 2009
  • November 2009
  • December 2009
  • January 2010
  • February 2010
  • March 2010
  • April 2010
  • May 2010
  • June 2010
  • July 2010
  • August 2010
  • September 2010
  • October 2010
  • November 2010
  • December 2010
  • January 2011
  • February 2011
  • March 2011
  • April 2011
  • May 2011
  • June 2011
  • July 2011
  • August 2011
  • September 2011
  • October 2011
  • November 2011
  • December 2011
  • March 2012
  • April 2012
  • May 2012
  • June 2012
  • August 2012
  • April 2013
  • June 2013
  • August 2013
  • September 2013
  • October 2013
  • February 2014
  • March 2014
  • April 2014
  • August 2014
  • March 2015
  •  

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

    Monday, January 31, 2005

    supercalifragilisticexpealidoscious



    I was waiting for Mary Poppins
    to swoop on down and save the day
    with a silly word
    and a sidewalk portal to a magical place.
    While the chimney sweepers danced,
    my kite chased its tail
    to the delight of the pigeons.
    Then the wind changed,
    and true to her word,
    she was gone,
    leaving me not knowing
    what to say.

     

    Sunday, January 30, 2005

    are my eyes really brown?

    Yes, they are. And what’s more, they’ve been cloned.

     

    Friday, January 28, 2005

    "Delirium" is not among them

    Attached is a map of the states I've visited in the U.S. West Virginia is a bit of a stretch because I only drove through it. And while I've lived in both New York and Massachusetts for over 30 years combined, I've only been to Vermont 3 times - all day trips.



    create your own personalized map of the USA

     

    Saturday, January 22, 2005

    snow in the forecast

    snow in the forecast —
    I really have
    no place to go

     

    Tuesday, January 18, 2005

    maybe this poem

    maybe this poem
    is a devil’s playground
    strewn with broken toys.
    maybe these words
    are a cry for help
    gift-wrapped in metaphor.
    maybe my thoughts
    have nothing to do
    with the words I write.
    maybe my dreams
    are only the words
    I’ll never write.
    maybe this poem
    isn't a poem at all.

     

    Thursday, January 13, 2005

    somniloquy

    I woke up too early to dream this morning,
    so I slept through my daydreams instead.

     

    Wednesday, January 12, 2005

    chocolate orgasm

    I saw you
    and instantly
    wanted you.
    I tasted you
    and instantly
    had no choice
    but to devour you.
    I churned
    and I surged,
    your sticky sweetness
    streaming down my chin,
    oblivious
    to everything
    except
    my need —
    my need
    to have you melt
    between my fingers,
    my need
    to feel you dancing
    on the tip of my tongue.

     

    back to mindlessness

    in the back of my mind there’s an indecent proposal of sorts that conspires to unhinge the labyrinth at its very fulcrum, lest I lose my composure and unleash the dogs of war.

    on second thought, exhale...

     

    Sunday, January 09, 2005

    cigar

    when I heard the news
    I promised myself
    one
    long
    decadent
    drag
    on the tastiest Cuban
    I could find.
    But I hate being wasteful
    so I smoked
    the whole damned thing
    savoring
    each bitter puff
    and watching
    while my fingertips
    burned.

     

    Tuesday, January 04, 2005

    airport security

    My twenty-one year-old daughter has a knack for entering a new situation with an impressive combination of focus and curiosity. This often manifests itself as an embrace of the immediate present to the exclusion of the recent past, or at least that’s the way it would seem to her overly sensitive Dad.

    Case in point: when I brought her to Bloomington, MN to start her freshman year of college over three years ago, we had a wonderful day moving in and getting to know the campus. She was tearful when I had to say goodbye, but quickly cheered up when her roommate came by to accompany her to dinner. The two of them walked toward the cafeteria chatting up a storm, while I quietly walked toward my rental car in the opposite direction. I kept peering over my shoulder, secretly hoping that she would do the same. She didn’t.

    The same thing happened yesterday when I brought her to Logan Airport after a very pleasant holiday visit. We said goodbye at the security gate, and that was it: she walked forward while I lingered and sighed.

    I’ve been trying to capture this bittersweet moment without being overly sentimental or resorting to cliches. The obvious solution would be to simply report the facts:

    passing through security
    my daughter
    doesn’t look back


    “Doesn’t look back”, as a figure of speech, seems too weighty, therefore even though it’s an accurate description, I think of it as too distracting.

    airport security —
    my daughter doesn’t see me
    wave goodbye


    This is also accurate, although I wonder if it’s too much of an “awww” moment.

    winter rain —
    my daughter doesn’t see me
    wave goodbye


    “airport security” replaced with a seasonal reference. I don’t like this as much as the second. Back to the cooling board...

     

    Saturday, January 01, 2005

    player piano in concept

    Pythagorus sleeps
    at the feet
    of young Van Cliburn,
    dreaming of triangles.
    across the bar
    my daydream du jour
    tells her lover
    that she will never live
    with another man.
    as I watch Sportscenter
    without sound
    the silence soothes
    my last remaining nerve
    and I forget
    your question.

     

    design by may
    maystar designGet awesome blog templates like this one from BlogSkins.com