whiskey makes my lips sing
much like the tune one might hear
while listening to a fire crackle
much like the noise one might hear
while adjusting the knob on the radio
much like the touch one might feel
while dancing with the boy
who wears white socks with his black trousers
just the way his mother arranged for him on his bed
whiskey song; thursday edition
January 20, 2012hot cereal morning vista
August 23, 2011at half past the hour
on a mid-late summer day
there is hot cereal in my bowl
out across the rooftops
a stone behemoth stabs
its great spires toward the silent blue
I look back to the bowl
then again to the giant
one instant, and the bandit spoon takes it all
Cellular poetry
July 5, 2011A small device which
Marks the switch
To all things perfectly swell
Quick, at hand
Don’t stop the band
Convenience casts its spell
Japanese Fashion Haiku
April 12, 2011walking in short pants
how refreshing it must feel
sunlight on ankles
