thursday, march 2, 2023

the way that midmorning
on a tuesday
can be the worst time
to think of weekends
and the distance
from the last one
to the next

the way february's a
bad month to think
back on christmas
and contemplate

3:13 in the morning
is a grim interval
in which to see
the bedside numerals,
segments floating red
in the dark over
her shoulder

and remembering the
day past, wonder if
you'll sleep before the
daylight on its way

the threads of this life
weave in and out of
some pattern i cannot see
or they fray at the
edge of a spreading tear

i waver without saying
much, between joy and ---
well, what i cannot say.
a sense of loss or
one of foreboding?

my yesterdays all read
like missed exits
and letters left cruelly
unanswered for years on end
this time of night

i get up to write this
but all the lamps are
too bright for a sleeping

so i light a dusty candle
out of the clutter on
my grandma's kitchen table
and half the lines have left me
before i get them to the page

you might imagine better ones
the way i imagine all the
tomorrows i might have made
had i been better then.

p1k3 / 2023 / 3 / 2

sunday, december 18, 2022

driving out east of denver
in the early hours after sunrise
onto the winter plains

frost and haze,
black cattle moving slow
in the muted light

the grass all gold and brown,
the sky all gray and
white, pale blue and

industry bellowing steam
into the layer of smog
just above the horizon

tags: topics/poem

p1k3 / 2022 / 12 / 18

Wednesday, December 7, 2022


  1. If you haven’t adopted a somewhat science fictional frame of mind in the last decade or so, you probably don’t understand things as well as you could.

  2. If you’re operating entirely on that basis, you’re still probably pretty out of the loop.

tags: topics/sfnal

p1k3 / 2022 / 12 / 7

wednesday, november 30, 2022

the blazing light at the edges of the ice on the sidewalk
wakes up something in my mind, some sense of the real
and i tell myself it doesn't mean anything at all
except for snow and sun and everything that entails
but then i guess that's a lot, maybe that's most of it

it's hard to find the world beautiful when it's dying
it's hard to love what you're going to lose
but then if you can't find beauty in what's dying
what else would you find it in at all?

tags: topics/poem

p1k3 / 2022 / 11 / 30

tuesday, november 1, 2022

some days i think
you're only ever
talking to yourself

other days it seems like
we dwell in the
warmth of some
shared understanding

(like there's a we,
all told, lit with the light
of other souls)

it's always fleeting,
too brief, an unstable

except when it seems
bigger than the whole world

the way a mountain
in the distance
is part of the landscape
while one underfoot
is the whole of it

we're left i guess
unable to agree
what it all meant or
should mean

but i still find myself
reaching for the idea
that it meant
that it means

tags: topics/poem

p1k3 / 2022 / 11 / 1


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