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Bliss Amiss
Please don’t pull me into this I was sailing into my late 30s, trying to enjoy some bliss When the very word landed on my desk Who was on the other end: I actually could have guessed I’d been scheduled for a deposition But could I just not respond My absence could be a minor
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Seagull & Pelican
The seagull said to the pelican, “I’m not really a sea bird but please don’t tell them” They flew above the bay Occasionally dove down to hunt and play The seagull was young, white and gray The pelican – blue, and a bit more aged They rested on the pilings Watched the dolphins, and even
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Blue Snow 2025
I like seeing blue on the map On the weather man’s screen it seems to fill a gap The mention of snow sends my part of the world into a throw Grocery stores swell People in traffic on a Friday afternoon yell The great blizzard is coming! This could be the one! All I know
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The Point
Can you get to the point? My eyes shift to the numbers on the bottom right of the screen As you talk about your joints and everything in between I don’t even remember what question I asked You’re carrying on about the past Every inquiry results in a laborious trail of words Small details become
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Life is Right Now
I recently finished reading Meditations for Mortals by Oliver Burkeman. I highly recommend it. It feels a bit like Ecclesiastes (one of my favorite books of the Bible) and a very toned-down self-help book. It’s great for perfectionists, people-pleasers, and overachievers (not that I fall into any of those categories). One of the big lessons
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January Confession
I have a confession I like January I don’t love it, no, it’s just my friend I chuck last year’s calendar – the past is past That’s my concession There’s something special about the cold and wind Especially on a Monday morning when it’s dark Any remaining Christmas lights have lost their spark But there’s
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Pills
You can tell a lot about a person by the pills they take Literally, what makes them tick Their soft spots And what they think The cure for everything is an antibiotic Or maybe an antipsychotic Never mind your diagnosis We all land somewhere on the spectrum of neurosis Little capsules and tablets glisten like
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Corpse Plant
We walked into the greenhouse on a cold December day Inside it was warm and humid That was okay The verdant leaves and bright flowers were a nice contrast to the outdoors’ gray On this particular Sunday morning though, I felt a bit deluded I had entered to see I walked up to the
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Sandpiper
There’s a little sandpiper on the shore Pecking frenetically I stand solitary, watching him scurry Those little feet hurry energetically At the base of the crumbling waves I wonder if this is how he spends his days He’s alone, like he got cut off from his pack I happen to look back and there are
writings on life
gremlin fodder 