At the Bluebird

Richard is done tuning; he turns to his violinist,
calls her his conscience, names her Sarah.
She can’t find an unattractive way to hold her violin.
Maybe better half’s a bit closer.

Behind, the guitarist starts, lights
his corner with a mess of motion
and stage-cyan peeking through wispy hair
and he croons silently to his guitar
and the words are all “help” and his limbs seize and kick
and I can hear that he’s driving the song.

Heights

Sex is such a funny thing -
I mean gender - don't get me wrong,

but I wrote code because they

said that I couldn't, or shouldn't,

or some such, and because Blaekley

stood a little higher

to talk down to me.

Torchlight 2: A Lesson in Lost Lessons

I bought Torchlight 2 on launch. Yesterday, about two hours into it, I found myself wondering why I wasn't having fun. And... it's because Torchlight 2 was more of the same - just more Torchlight. Torchlight itself was an exercise in frustrated design - it had so much promise that was ruined by poor mechanics and a misunderstanding of fun. How?

Outing

They came to pray for her
whether or not she wanted it,
and she quietly told the
organist that she had her
communion wafers, see,
and the little anti-nausea pills
rattled in her hands.

Sakura

I've heard you shouldn't
look a cat in the eyes
because it scares them.

Insight

The little cogs and fly-wheels
break through, or we broke
in, or somehow they’re exposed,
pulsing gutly in nakedness,
and the daemon known as
‘algorithm’ is visible, chanting
in strange, artificial languages,
where such things have heft.

Changes (Bowie)

The car goes into park easily,

as such old things are wont

(being easy off, but troubled on),

and I would have no sympathy,

but the fact that yesterday

was work again, and I felt

far past my listed mileage.