Monday, October 20, 2008



With each post
she deposits
a little bit
of herself

and distributes it
to all the world's
linking in,

to her space
what's on her

Every hour
she logs in
to see
what everyone
thinks of it.

Sunday, October 12, 2008



Long shadows
from an ancient
willow tree fall
across the
stone that bears

your name,
the day that you
were born,
the day that you
and the years
that you lived.

But the stone
bears no scars
of the time
that drags on
after the years
that you had gone

that you were missed.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008



This place is in my head when I am in a crowd
going to work, or on a noisy street where
the video store and the CD shop are competing
for passing eyes and ears,

when I'm breathing in the 8 am traffic
or braving the hot rain coming back from lunch
or squeezing into a lift full of impatient colleagues,

I am thinking of a sunny place,
sitting under a shade of green trees
and having a picnic.

Monday, September 29, 2008



Makes me think of the ocean,

the salty smell
saturating the air
drowning it;

how I can only walk
alongside of it

because I can't swim.

It's the under-currents
that move the waves;
it's not really the wind
like some people might think.

It takes a lot to swim
against those

I'm better off here
safe on the beach,
watching the waves,
breathing in the salt.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008



yet as necessary
as a shredder, or
a coffee maker

being polite, you refer
to me as “uncle”
only because you don’t
know my name

and you don’t care to

after all, I am not a part
of the work you do

unless something left behind
on the desk last night has gone
missing the next morning

Monday, September 22, 2008

Common decency

You say you are often


by all
the unkindness
you see in the world.

But to the boy
who held
the lift doors


for you

while you fumbled around
for your keys
and hollered for your husband
who was picking leaves off
his freshly polished wrx,

you did not even have
the decency
to thank him
for waiting.


not coming
for dinner?

last year
I said no

I gave
the same answer
for the year

and the year
before that

and the year
before that,
was when I was soft
gave in
and ate
in regret

let's just say
it wasn't the cooking
it was the cook

and what the cook said
about the way I walked
the way I talked,
what I was wearing,
that my hair
was too
and how
it was all
my mother's

and that
was the end of it
and I will never
regret saying
not this year
not the next
not ever