A dog is running after its own tail.


One minute a man sees 

the next. He is awake again.

He is always waking.


It’s like this:

a glass full,

then empty.

No evidence of drinking.


In sleep there might be peace;

a longer narrative, sea air.


Holding a piece of chocolate,

turning it over and over,

each time new.


Is there life on Mars yet?

People are getting more cancers.


For thirty seconds, a story

from a TV show: the world 

has stopped. He is still 

moving. The eyes become

vessels for no one, an eclipse 

of the spirit. Unblinking,  

he waits to pause.


Semantic (write it down):

Thomas Edison. Eudemonia. 

Seven Wonders of the World.

The Pi to the 13th Decimal.



The first time he meets his wife.
It was raining like today.

He has forgotten the taste of rain.



What the body desires

1. to waste

2. to take in


Briefly, lucid, metaphorical:

a pebble stuck in the middle

of an hourglass. An empty set.



Pin-pricked, the immediate

withdrawal of the hand.



He will refuse to be






The dog always rushing

to greet his master

even when gone

for mere minutes.


Nothing better than 

[This moment]

Better than nothing


She brings him his piano sheets

and he could see with ears

the budding of a flower in full

bloom before it fades, unfolding

all at the same time


he and his wife are on their first trip

together: playing footsie in the sand,

the wind making her hair wild with dance,

the ruby pale swimsuit over a skyless

sun. Being, not suspended, breathing


the earliest beyond language:

how can I remember what I had

no words for? They are not enough

to describe her scent. In music,

a rest. In joking, cease the day. 


In seriousness,

the only present is lonely 



His mother has passed a decade ago. 

A pebble is inside a shoe. To forget

you once mourned, the hour must be

re-turned again and again.


For all one knows, 

in those spaces, 

is a God.