There it is again
My rampant, purple verse
Just because she dropped
A silken, wanton stanza

Like a maiden would
A handkerchief
At a picnic
Or a ball

No no I say
The others are watching still
And her urgent
breathless whisper

No it’s OK, they’re all asleep
Just quietly
But watch the door

And so we madly
Claw the buttons
Reckless
Off each other’s prose

Touching across
The half-lit void
Of six thousand kilobytes

Or as many black miles
of Atlantic waves
Cresting over
The bones of lovers lost

And as we at last
Lay sweating there,
Spent and lost
and found

A lock of her hair
Loosed by our play
Tumbles suddenly down

To touch the curve
Of her smile

Oh my.

how is it?
no matter
what happens
good or ill
no matter what
life
sends my way
I always end
up here
always here
how is it?
as the sun explodes
and my dogs die
my woman won't sleep
or talk
anymore
how is it
that as whiskey
drains to glass
and relationships
come and go
like thunderstorms
flashing
how is it?
life deals blow
after blow
and I sit here
turning the
other cheek and
typing
for christ's sake
typing
as if these words
meant something
other than nothing
I should be put to work
or death
these words
bring no food to the table
no clothes for my sister's
bruising back
nothing
only another few kilobytes
reduced from thought to ram
and then gone
quick relief
quick relief
then back to nothing
as life throws another left hook

Tick, Tock
You listen to the drone
Of a fan
Music ticks by
Three minutes, Thirty-seven seconds
Four minutes, Thirty-eight seconds
Five minutes, Ten seconds
Stop
Alt-tab away
Think about something else
You can't listen to this anymore
Fan drones on
Laughing in another room
Someone plays piano next door

Do something, DO something!
Look at downloads
Four hundred and sixteen
Out of
Four hundred and Fifty-three
Time equals
Distance over Speed
Numbers that go forever,
Listen to the story
"Today's going to be a good day"
And write the numbers coming up on the screen
Just to do something
Seven-Eight-Two-Eight-Point-Five-
Seven-One-Four-Two-­Nine
And papers build up around you
It's the same calculation done
Every 10 minutes
Because 35 Kilobytes per second
And you're exhausted
But you need to do something
That isn't hearing the same music,
That isn't playing Solitaire
Over and Over and Over
Watch numbers go up
Write numbers going down
Two hours, Thirty-Five minutes
Two hours, Twenty-Three minutes
Two hours Seventeen
Two hours Ten
Fifty-One

Four-Twenty-Nine-Point-four
Out of
Four-Fifty-Three

Tick Tock
The drone of a fan
The music's stopped
Someone next door has stopped playing piano
Stare
Into the space on your paper
More space
To fill
With numbers