what you want

world peace,
a baby’s arm holding an apple,
the car you can’t afford,
the girl who’ll never live next-door,
the song I never want to end...

ennui

it’s not just French for “Henry”. Webster describes it as “a feeling of utter weariness and discontent resulting from satiety or lack of interest.” Satiety?

fresh snow

if I stare at it long enough,
I can tell myself that it’s no longer falling,
that it’s suspended in the air indefinitely,
that it’s beautiful, even inspirational,
and that I’m really excited
to be here.

schism

I’ve asked on more than one occasion whether or not I should split up my two blogs such that one focused on haiku while the other featured everything else. On more than one occasion I was persuaded to duplicate my haiku on both blogs, making this one a superset of the other. I’m going to discontinue that practice, posting haiku to haikupoet.com - the blog, and keeping this blog a veritable compost heap of thought and thoughtlessness. Please let me know what you think of the change.

in case you needed proof...

...that I’m a geek, I’ve spent several hours this weekend re-installing BLAG 70000 on my desktop, and then my laptop. BLAG is a Linux distribution based on Fedora but reduced to one CD, stripping out the fat and replacing it with attitude.

winter rain —
the dog’s head
on my lap

dream-filled dreams (part four)

I often dream of trains, but this was a taxi cab - at least at first. When we stepped into the back seat of a fairly typical yellow taxi it expanded into a plush limousine. Then, instead of the sensible business pants suit you had been wearing only seconds ago, you were luxuriating in some very enticing lingerie...

dream-filled dreams (part three)

Those who know me know that my dog is treated better than most members of royalty. Evidently Mr. Sandman either doesn’t know this or doesn’t care, as I found myself in a Florida hospital waiting room, with dog impatiently waiting in the car. I had cracked the window open, and checked on her frequently, but eventually the car was towed away and I was cited for leaving a dog in the car during 94 degree temperatures.

Valentine’s Day —
forget-me-nots
from what’s-her-name

it is what it is...

which is to say
casually dismissive,
void of content,
ignorance masquerading as inevitability,
disingenuously deterministic,
a practiced obtuseness cloaked in nothingness,
word pollution,
whatever.

dream-filled dreams (part two)

The giraffe wore a top hat and matching black vest, gentle and mild-mannered despite the crowd. Hard to believe he could be lost in the shuffle, even the madness that is Central Park, lost for hours only to be found in an alley behind an art studio, surrounded by paparazzi and police. It was by chance that I heard the news on the radio in time to find him.

dream-filled dreams (part one)

Ziggy signed autographs, not as tall or as muscular as I had remembered him: still sporting a golden tan and jet black hair, now clipped to a more practical length. He was frail and even a little effeminate, referring to us as “my good people”. Who was this guy? And could he ever play guitar?

new moon...
the
same
old
promises

market watch —
dandelion seeds
in the air

out of shape
I exercise
my right to vote

staff meeting —
Monday morning quarterbacks
with Super hangovers

Super Bowl Sunday —
a quarterback sneak
to the liquor store

Ground Hog Day —
nothing but
broken clouds