EUREKA

Watching 

bombs fall 

over 

internet connections, 

we turn 

to computers 

and post "nothing at all 

is shocking." 

Yet the fact 

that we are able 

to understand

one another

but still sound 

like ourselves 

comes as no 

small wonder.

*

Which is harder? 

To spot 

the cliché

or explain 

away the jargon? 

They used to say 

a stitch in time—

like a spine—

goes unnoticed 

til the moment 

you pull one.

But eminent Psychologists 

of today 

have suggested 

that old shout 

of Archimedes'

was leveled 

in agony—not 

in epiphany. 

*

Hey there, mister moon. 

How soon is 

too soon, I wonder

to have ended 

up where you'd begun? 

TINY ROOMS

Am I merely being 

sarcastic 

when I say I'm self-

critical? 

Never mind. 

Let's all play Twitter 

or 

Emily Dickinson?

It's harder 

than it looks 

to cling 

to spontaneity

to remain caustic 

in gray-scale

and every minute

to beget a little stanza

about how 

money language 

memory love 

family—

even grim death—

can each

fail us 

so thrillingly.

BLACKISH

Put down 

the words

and back 

away slowly.

Whence 

this manic greed 

for assertion?

*

Outside, 

blackish sparrows—

fluttering twig 

to twig in the 

bald lilac bushes

and twittering 

keep keep keep keep—

threading their cold-

needled holes 

in-between 

last night's dream

and the 

insignificance  

of today.

*

Repeat a word enough 

times, you think 

(not unhappy),

and it starts to mean 

nothing  

or 

anything you need.

OH GREAT

God is a circle 

whose circumference 

is nowhere. 

A circle 

which has no edges? No:

a circle which has 

all of the edges. 

*

Even in winter,

there are 

certain blind flowers

whose mouths are wide open,

but still

they aren't talking.

*

Oh great, now I am supposed 

to be jealous 

of a virus—

a virus which

has no self? 

But no: the center 

of the circle 

is everywhere.

this virus 

has all of our selves. 

INFINITE DENSITY

How can it 

be? we 

have no problem picturing 

a vast universe 

in which 

everything is lying 

and gradually 

drifting 

infinitely   far       apart?

Yet, 

whenever somebody 

starts 

to go on about 

the penetrability of bodies;

ornaments 

nested,

smaller 

and smaller, forever 

inside each other;

fundamental particles 

which only exist

when they're

infinitelyclosetogether—

we must 

blink back our anxiety, 

nod, and pretend 

that we 

understand completely

and don't 

have grave doubts. 

DURABLE GOODS

What the world 

needs now is 

more quantifiable units 

of meaning. 

Happiness 

is cotton candy;

a garnish 

on reality 

which evaporates 

upon contact.

Love 

is a glittering, 

shimmering mirage—a palace,

a look 

to the middle distance 

that keeps 

receding in perfect 

sync 

as we walk.

* 

Lately,

I'm more interested 

in durable goods,

unique handmade products, 

fairly-

traded, BPA-free.

Even as we 

speak, I'm 

entering my zip 

to calculate shipping.

BIG QUESTIONS

Progress is 

progress. The answers 

look correct, but

nobody is asking 

the really big questions.

Exactly what sort 

of information 

does love contain? 

Could the nature 

of our relationship 

survive a black hole? 

Can't you somehow 

just picture it—

me, still begging 

your forgiveness 

as the universe rips;

your assent, 

that eerie radiance 

smeared out 

like a sustained pitch 

all along the sensuous

song of a faint

event horizon?