David's Blog

Pilot I dreamed I was the pilot of a small plane brought down by a minor squall over the upper Midwest. And, too, I was a passenger on a...

What happens to our old Personal Assistants when a new one comes along? The Death of Siri It started with small things, as these cases...

Resolution This year I'm taking a beat, catching my breath, giving it a rest. This is the year I won’t run a marathon, or write that...

or, Whom's On First? I knew each of them-- he and she-- before they met. They weren’t married yet. This was before she began to go by...

I'm posting an original poem every Friday for a year. CEO If I were in charge of this modest sunlight I’d add a bit of orange and slant...

I'm posting an original poem every Friday for a year. The distance He was copper, as soft-spoken as any man in our little town. In his...

I'm posting an original poem every Friday for a year. I only write a few poems every year. Why I Have Stopped Writing Poetry Dickinson? ...

I'm posting an original poem every Friday for a year. Strike I dreamed all my clichés went on strike. No similes and not a single...

I'm posting an original poem every Friday for a year. When I rode the bus I wrote a haiku each day. Bus haiku #8 A green shoulder bag...

I'm posting an original poem every Friday for a year. Graveyard This late sky is a dismal light for reading these stones, and a century...

I'm posting an original poem every Friday for a year. I've lost track of what number this is. When I rode the bus I wrote a haiku each...

I'm posting an original poem every Friday for a year. Satellite She and I are connected today only by satellite, and this keypad is too...

I'm posting an original poem every Friday for a year. This is around 37/52. Last Requests I would prefer not to die "funny." By this I...

The Lake The mist spreads across the early morning lake like a mild rumor. We are here, the dog and I, because we have no other place to...

I'm posting an original poem every Friday for a year. This is 33/52 I think. A poem about trying to be in the present moment. The End of...

I'm posting an original poem every Friday for a year. This is 32/52 I think. A found poem, from a catalog of types of marble. Some words...

I'm posting an original poem every Friday for a year. I've lost track of the # this is. When I rode the bus I wrote a haiku every day....

I'm posting an original poem every Friday for a year. Some kind of clerical error leads to eternal consequences. Afterlife My headlamp on...

I'm posting an original poem every Friday for a year. This is 30/52. Screentime I am trying to enjoy this quiet coffee but the couple...