On the kitchen table he's pushed back
salad bowl, toaster, salt and pepper shakers,

a Maginot line against sleep.
His pencil stutters its precarious

telegraph message on paper, repeating
the wall clock's morse of half-past one;

across the room the radio blares
its muted reveille. No use -

Already the calculator's numbers
are beginning to fray like streetlamps

in an evening mist, already his books
are eyelidded in a conspiracy

of fingerprints, already he feels himself
falling, falling, falling, falling

into the refrigerator's cyclopean snore.
Upstairs his bed waits destitute

among the train sets and soldiers,
cold and unembraced, a forgotten lover

staring at the ceiling, marking time
by the spider's trembling geometry.


  1. I never thought of living as homework before. And I'm not saying that is what you meant... I really love your images "spider's trembling geometry":beautiful and haunting.

  2. I too love "the spider's trembling geometry" and "the refrigerator's cyclopean snore", "the bed waits destitute", "muted reveille", "pencil stutters' ... oh gosh, the whole lot really!

  3. This is excellent. I love the imagery that resonates in every line of your writing. I so envy people who write poetry with ease!

  4. The words morph my reality right into that vividly made moment and feeling!

  5. Thanks for the kind words!

    Short link - http://bit.ly/s4homework


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