When I'm Tired

When I'm tired,
so tired that there's nothing else
I can do,
I think of you
and what you were wearing
that wet day:
not your clothes
(you weren't wearing
any clothes)
but the scent that clung
to your skin and hung
in the room long after you'd gone.

When I'm tired enough,
and empty enough,
I can, by some trick of the memory,
close my eyes
and stroke again your skin
and smell anew that scent
and even hear the rain.

Browser Wars 2008

The browser wars are hotting up & they're interesting to watch. Those who are even slightly savvy about the Internet and its tech know that Microsoft's IExplorer is definitely not the browser to choose for any reason--it's slower than the competition, bulky, less intuitive and of course the one most likely to spawn viruses. It's also, natch, the most-used browser of all since choosing an alternative requires a bit of extra effort (IE comes bundled as the built-in virus portal with every Windoze PC sold).
   There's a good choice of alternatives available now: Safari (Apple's own and the one resident on Nokia phones); Firefox (version 3 is imminent); and Opera are the three big ones. Then there's Flock, which is radically different. In addition a number of experimental fly-fasts are available: Shiira and Sunrise are the first to come to mind; and then Camino...
   What to choose? Well Flock is the must-have if you're a blogger or facebook/twitter fan, and since it's built upon Firefox, Fox plug-ins usually work on Flock too--a big plus. But it's wise to never stick to one. I'm posting this from Flock, but Safari's also up-and-running right now in the background.
   My hardware is an Apple G4 laptop running OSX Tiger.

Blogged with the Flock Browser

04th March

The subdued blue and smudged red
of a new day
wash over our bed
and stroke your hair;
you wake, open your eyes,
and I surprise
the beauty there:
the sunrise
dawning soft and sweet inside.

The Book of Dreams

YOU WERE SLEEPING, deep into page 32 of the Book of Dreams. That's the page where you float away from the cliff's edge and stand on the beach painted by Seurat, the beach full of pointillist brown-and-gold speckle. It is the beach of my dreams too.
I was watching you sleeping. Your shape fascinated me, as it always does: the purity of your lines, your soft curved bays and secluded coves hidden from the wash and soft suck of the sea. I was listening to your even-pulsed breathing, your breath as I imagine it must have been in that first, primal, dawn.
The sea froths up your fears, foams your worries from your warm blood as you sleep.
Sleep softly, my love, sleep well.

XIV

How do you love me?
Let me count the waves,
the smiles, the tears;
the hours, the days,
the years;
the ways
you caress, impress
and undress
the otherwise uneventful
ordinary dullness
of a life
that could have been lived
(but mercifully wasn't)
without you.

In the aftermoon

In the aftermoon,
in a quiet hour,
I watched you sleeping:
Dark and Lovely,
Sof-n-free,
your small, slender,
recently relaxed body
an s-curl in the salon of our bed.

Autumn haiku

A thing of beauty:
dry leaves blown across a road
on a windy day.

24th April

"Hi. I noticed you noticing me."
"Yes. I was noticing how beautiful you are." She shrugged--a slight, almost imperceptible movement of her shoulders--as if disappointed.
"Is that all?"
"No," I continued, "and that's not even what's most important."
"Oh?" A raised eyebrow this time.
"No, the most important thing I noticed was your style. At first your clothes, of course, and your handbag, and so on. But then, when I heard you speak..."
"Uh-huh. I'm listening."
"You're not a woman who tolerates fools."
"You're right, I'm not. But how could you possibly know that?"
It was my turn to shrug.
"Call it intuition," I said, "my feminine side." She laughed.
"Your feminine side! Which side is that?"
"My inside."
"Your inside? You're crazy."
"Quite possibly." I gave it a few seconds, then: "So where does that leave us?" She gave it a full minute, then:
"I think... you can buy me a drink," she said.

cold weather

The Kingdom has been cold, cold and cold this week, especially up here in the mountains... miserable, I think. They say it's because of all the rain we had this year; but give me sun, heat and sun!

The True Meaning Of Christmas

Sitting in a bar
pretending not to be bored,
all the time hoping
for an adventure to walk through
the
door.