Saturday, June 4, 2016

A Trio of Digital Incantations (impromptu)


1. Copy & paste

Copy & paste with gluten-free paste!
Pixilate pixilate! hurry in haste!
Answer all questions! if questions are aced
Broadcast your victory!  Copy & paste!


2.  Click here

Click here quickly! thru thick & thin!
Love the alacrity! click & win!
Whether you're worried or eager or sick
Answers are waiting! So click here! Click!


3.  Drowsy browsing?

Drowsy browsing? data arrayed?
Pictures fading? wait in the shade!
When you're offline & far from a phone
Click with your heart!  You're never alone!


d.i.

Saturday, July 11, 2015

A Studio Production (after Silence Day)


Is it invariably Central Casting
(on this quaint side of the Om Point)
that trots out its dramatis personae
all itching to assume angular places
in scenarios cooked up to burst forth
centerstage or out yon in left field

while Peripheral Casting unfolds space
& available light lends a dim metier
time ticking morse code? the hourglass
has been turned & every scintilla
of fine sand fell gravity pulls through
could whisper  time awaits Everyman

and is it then Medial Casting that
behind the scenes with its account books
flipped open to arcane karmic traceries
weighs the possible against its opposite?
do we scurry just to flesh out a plotline
of banality? are miracles permissible?

off the rails unscripted in grand improv
Mr. Whim now raises his megaphone

Thursday, January 29, 2015

Confessions of Happiness [quatrain]

Every day if I should see you becomes a wonderful day any action that involves you brings a blessing to my heart your friendship resembles an inexhaustible treasury whereby day after day tendrils of happiness surround me

Saturday, January 17, 2015

"God is online & offline" [boomerang poem]


God is online & offline
God is beyond lineation
God is without form or sign
God is in all of creation
God is deep-source information
God is top-notch ruby wine
God is the long implication
God is online & offline

Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Early Winter Shi


Rainy dark night   but the rain almost done
listening to Beethoven   having arrived
again at the street that I've come to call home
still lingering a while with the radio   I've
along with the brood of companion dropsouls
fetched up once more on the penultimate night
of a year in a still-youthful century whose
real design if half-sensed remains hidden from sight