tues

back in the office
like a plunge into ice water
return to deadlines

monday

a slow morning start
followed by mac and cheese
and then a parting

tilghmans

wiggly in water
W+W
reflects M+M

a patchwork of rust,
plywood, miscellaneous
scrap: Crow Brothers II

oyster boats in dock—
deadrise, tonger, or draketail—
gather rust and rest

at glen echo

atop "Pop Corn"
paleolithic Pac Men
are guarding Glen Echo

hot

on Thursday morning
we had a frost warning. Now,
it's ninety degrees.

leaving work early
to drive to BWI
and not get a flat

from the hot sunlight
into the arctic a/c
for a sweet crab cake

hats and heels

lined up politely
elegant women and men
here for a funeral

at ninety-two years
still able to walk a hill
like she walked Selma

windy

sudden gusts pulling
at my clothing like wayward
little puppy dogs

4 am

at 4 am, rain.
waves echo in dream hotel.
i shudder off sleep.

echoes for monday

inside, the waves roil,
filling my ears with their wild
music, beckoning

the inner ocean
pushes out office panic
and deadline headache

wading

secretly, i bring
the shore back: salt wind in hair,
sand between my toes.

white rocks, quartz pebbles,
and grey heart-shaped stone find their
way into pocket

wet feet

The tide ebbs, pulling
my soul eastward, swallows dive
and swoop overhead.

feet firmly rooted,
and yet, inexorably,
ebbing waves pull east


feet wet in eastern
ocean, my spirit roams west
to you in desert

sputter coff start

after insomnia
ye gods —don't think i can face
the office morning

feet dragging, eyes puff'd
spine aches and creaks, brain sputters
and makes excuses

time for a cuppa
darjeeling, chai, or earl grey?
brew morning petrol

adrift

a soft morning, fog
parts way before my footsteps
yielding subtle myst'ry

my thoughts, cast off
adrift in the breeze, the sun,
motes of self elsewhere

rain

achey rain descends
upon a cranky city
honk grumble moan

cool damp musty
rain transforms the world to a
limitless basement

yellow motes swirling,
grainy particulate sea
maple, oak, poplar

monday

no sunbathing, beer,
athletic activities
on the Bishop's Lawn

oak pollen

small yellow pom-poms
accumulate around my feet
pollen spread by steps

saturday, birthday party

Robert sits enthroned
Connor refuses ice cream
Wyatt wants to bounce

birthday party hides
in an industrial park
for nephew Robert

friday, back at hopkins

how much is enough?
at what point hope exhausted?
can she take much more?

such tiny damage
causes impact out of scale
on multiple lives

hopkins

four hours behind
waiting in Hopkins OR
for mom's seventh op

above mom's gurney
fake sunlight streams down on us
providing faux cheer

small medium large
grapes ready to be plucked from
their paper nest

evening drive

red eyes glow in the night
driveway reflectors gleaming
enshrouded in fog

tuesday

the rain brings cool air
grey wetness seeps thru my brain
making thoughts mushy

monday

a little coughing.
at first, but ultimately,
the little car runs

sunday

fair temperatures
with sun and a nice cool breeze
makes for good walking

saturday

three boys in the sun
two playing with bats and gloves
and wyatt runs amok

friday

living carousel
park police lead their horses
round picnic table

thursday

just chugging along
catching up, transferring files;
it's back to work

wednesday

unseasonably
ninety degrees in april
tree pollen to boot

how long will it stay
if in pollen i inscribe
my name and the date

back to work

oh this can't be good
that noise my hard drive's making
just cannot bode well...

the day started rough
rumors of guns on campus
but just foolish boys

travel monday

airport air is stale;
full of cell chat, flight calls, and
clank of slot machines

easter sunday

fancy shirt glows blue
amid egyptian hazards
deep inside king putts

deeply engrossed with
googley eyes and textures
a fine day's shooting

saturday

with seedy beauty
faded pop-u-luxe hotels
dying on freemont

yellow buildings:
bail bonds, tax law, on a tour
scattered throughout city

good friday

the internet lags
messages from work arrive
too late for effect

a homemade breakfast
a girl could get used to this
tea, bacon, and eggs

tour of dusty shops
chatting, exploring the past
in good company

flat tire

so close to airport
i can smell the fumes, should i
abandon the car and walk?

an epic blow out
if your going to do it
at least be thorough

ugh

friends in need today
but i don't know how to help
feeling quite useless

insomnia

cant sleep. not sure if
it's pollen, stress, or the
impending weekend

best seat in the creek

a delicate perch
precarious among rocks
a picnic table

froggy went a-courtin'

from darkening woods
the spring peepers sing their song,
"pick me! pick me! me!"

who?

mid cent'ry modern
ice bucket pierces me with
a metallic stare

cranky

I'm out of control—
can you still call it road rage
if you're at a desk?

the rain starts

rain against windows--
drops chatter, flicking wet tongues
hard against glass panes

the yellow stuff

No foolin', you know that
I'm all for trees and whatnot,
but pollen must go.

I swear, I can feel
the structure of each wee grain
with my inflamed eyes

trailblazing

ants in yellow hats
work roadside in rock creek park
restoring old trails

a fine mesh covers
the surface of the creek with
a net of bubbles

dazed

up since three am,
the world is slightly glazed,
krispy kreme lenses.

sunday

alas, too too soon
the weekend passes and it's
monday once again

for saturday

distracted by sun,
and by charming company,
poems aren't timely

for thursday, friday

"a day late and a
dollar short" with seventeen
syllables for thurs.

on days like today,
"make hay while the sun shines" is
more than a proverb

green

i AM wearing green,
gosh darnit, shoes do so count
for St Patrick's Day

warm

it seems sudden,
a swinging switch in seasons,
certainly springtime!

monday

today it seemed
a weekful of mondays was
crammed into one day

Sunday

shrimp po'boy and beignet,
cafe conversations with
mom and the rain

spring forward

daylight savings time—
change the clock at 2 am
on a rainy night

earthworms

"earthworms are easy,"
or so the 80s song says,
dancing in the rain

thursday

i can't get started
supremely unmotivated
total inertia

snowdrops

where Sunday was snow
today crisp snowdrops blossom
amid cool shadows

ghost salt

with my shadow hands
i catch a robin's shadow
in the morning sun

fridge

grey avocado,
spinach going transparent,
destined for compost

Sunday

spent the day today
doing nothing, quite lazy
and unrepentant

red

to stave off future
i henna my hair, again,
and do my sit-ups

spring

black dots squiggle
and dance around my bathtub:
the damn ants are back.

honk honk

a tattered grey skein
canada geese snag oak tops,
tangled song fills sky

5 am

unable to sleep
i watch the moon carve its path
across window panes

rock creek

rich with melt, blue-green,
pools deepen to mossy hues
echoing wet stones

amid white patches
a troupe of robins winnows,
orange sines bob and rise

swaddled

swaddled in cotton,
a waning moon murmuring
its muffled message

For Megan

Tulips, you hold fire

in your petals, hot beauty

fighting winter's cold.

in like a lion

seasons marching forth
a gap in the snow and wind
could spring be coming?

February ends

one thousand and three:
seventeen syllables for
fifty-nine days straight

Peter's Mountain

poor Peter's Mountain
overforested, ratty trees
snag the valley sky

Because it shouldn't take 40 minutes to find the rental car return

Orange cone flames lick cars

Dublin Airport construction

Ninth circle of hell.

lunch

refreshingly tart
taut berries in blue and red
harken warmer days

allergic

expectant, the melt brings
mold, bursting forth for new life,
blind spores find my nose

lament

Lot's Wife: salt, grime, sand,
encrust snow—where once beauty,
plough pillars remain.

bleah

after café crème,
swiss miss with industrial
coffee don't cut it

craving

grey day: I find it

hard to write the word mango

though it's on my mind.

catacombs

seven stories deep
six million dead line footpaths
through the breathless dark

no distance in fog.
words here are warm and friendly
fog is far away

peering around

four of us blog now.

two are unknown to me, but

good company, yes.

in which shadows appear

sundial for tourists
eiffel stretches across Seine
telling time for coffee

shakespeare & co

at shakespeare & comp'ny
free typewriter 'for arts sake'
with inkless ribbon

rusty ribbonliess skills
as i sit en-nooked and type
pointless doggerel

writing ghost haiku
for pencil discovery
by faceless strangers

In which we encounter the nearby star

reflections startle
dancing on the icy ground
unexpected sun

Coffee Break

Slow roasted java

Brings me back to waking life

The night owl is back

lost

lost in pere lachaise
disconsolate crows cawout
this way to Wilde's tomb

luggage from DC
lost in translation or just
lost at JFK?

'neath grey stones and skies,
befuddled and lost, each street
a revelation

stone poetry slam

half a world away

gargoyles with googly eyeballs

spout beatnik verses

In Which Weather Plays A Part

Quiet as a kiss
Snow suggests itself again,
tired, salty cars.

chuckles

a transatlantic

marathon of silliness

keeps me in stitches

arrrgh

Deep in Sin City

A lonesome goofball pirate

Misses his sweetheart

gay paree

of two hearts i go
thru weather and great distance
off to gay paree

Bad Day in the Forest

Wind tosses the oak
hard against another tree.
Unlucky poplar.

it's not nice

I'm not quite sure how,
but we have clearly pissed
mother nature off

sparrow's lament

the hawk stares me down
from the middle of sidewalk
"you lookin' at me?"

dead sparrow clasped
lightly in left talon
of peregrine falcon

with a soft rustle
dark blur focuses as
falcon and alights

breakfast dreams

more snow predicted...

if it were powdered sugar

I could make beignet

ow ow ow

parts of me hurt that
I didn't know existed
after digging out

shoveling snow

Mike leaves for Vegas
who would have ever thought I'd
miss shoveling snow?

more snow doom

chinese carryout
tastes better the second day before
lots of shoveling

because of the snow
many trees are heavy and
preparing to break

even more snow

in the falling snow
walk after drinking coffee
and before supper

fortune cookie says
nothing particularly
useful for "in bed"

PANIC!

Snow emergency!
Consult the " readiness wheel"
to know what to do.

white

snowy midstream rocks
support white-covered worlds,
lost cosmic turtles

Groundhog Day

mesmerizing flakes
swirl, preparing me for the
jump to hyperspace

pesky Marmota
your shadow has given us
another snow storm

Puxatawny Phil
emerges from his lair, blinks twice
and sees his shadow

BEEEP!

in, out, in, out, paces
the bored agent thru
magnetometer

the procession starts
suddenly a startled yelp
from excited bomb dog

magnetometer
flashes red then dark then red:
secret service at play

half in half out

my selky pelt lost,
as i shave, half in, half out
of my element

every day is strange
one foot in the future, and
one foot in the past

in desperate need,
do I light a flame or douse
for inspiration?