I imagine the algorithms
as monks in long habits,
praying at impossible speed,
Posted inPoetry
Poetry
Posted inPoetry
At the end of my suffering there was a door
Outside, a snow lay over the lake like ash
Posted inPoetry
How to win the Foley Poetry Contest: Don’t try to win
Writing poetry for prizes is a fool’s errand.
Posted inPoetry
They tell us border nets, 10,000 feet high,
What good are great blue herons reflecting our quiet thoughts
Posted inPoetry
Not upon a vasty field
Can you push a war down within the mind
where numbers cannot count and people are not people?