da

Beyond these silver linings
the day holds tight to the horizon,
unwilling to let go.

Its own volition is to remain
free from night's gaze
the many eyes the opaque watchers

over a transparent sea
of limitless light and silence,
like that day you left us.

One single elusive syllable
that first was uttered
was your one name to me.

I still call out to you, awake
in the night, that one single name
that no one else will ever take.

That moment at your wake
still plays each day in my mind.
The sound of wave on rocks.

hallelujah

My eyes
cast back a gaze
that clothes you
in a dress of confidence
that strips you
of the stress of conference
drawn around the spot
of my circumference
exposes the curves
of your body
My eyes
have seen the glory

environmentalism

the conversation about conservation
has worn on
the observation of overcompensation
and pompus privatization
the deprivation of public lands
without any publicity.
now that being eco-friendly
is so trendy
people can rank themselves
based on their rancor
for the many of hang on
to what few dollars more
than the poverty line
but these people are aligned
with waterfalls of money
windfalls of hegemony
and sail on without acknowledging
without the knowledge of self-sufficiency
but their allowance is sufficient
for them to buy a hybrid
and try to make you feel bad about it.

my os

(in the style of gil scott-heron)

my os doesn't need to be activated,
it's hacktivated.
my os isn't backwards compatible,
it's forward looking.

my os needs no service pack,
no value pack,
no packaging.
my os comes with no warranty,
my os doesn't allow focus stealing,
my os needs no backroom dealing,

my os needs no monopoly,
cause it's a technopoly,
my os is not property,
it just works properly.

my os even makes toast,
not coasters,
my os boasts no coastline,
my os has a great bassline.

my os has no blue screen of death,
no angel of death,
no death wish,
no bad breath,

my os has no cup holder,
no paperclip,
no wallpaper,
no desktop,
nor other cliche'd novelties
of metaphor

...my os has no release date.

you're a peon

When I was nineteen
it became clear
that I wanted to be somebody,
if only myself.
Now at thirty-two,
I remember walking
the back streets of Europe
admiring the gardens,
the shared spaces,
the clay, fitted rooves,
the yards maintained
with care and compost
the trains whizzing by
benches and trails
built of beer barrels
coopers and coops,
nearly every plot manicured.
If I am lucky in life,
the weathered patina
will rub off on my mind,
that european dream
to which I succumb.
None of my friends
appreciated this,
nor considered this
of vast import to their souls.

some large lady

some large lady
hailing her way from giverny
at a claude monet buffet
ate by herself all day

at 2pm when she felt ill
she went to the window
and resting 'pon the sill
let out a winnow

then down came the rain
all of her lunch
and ran down the drain
except for the chunks.