Flip Book


It was a bad time

to reflect

on what I should have written,

on the world’s last stack of sticky notes.

I ran my thumb over it,

to breathe life,

into my work.

Poorly-drawn, simplistic figures

walked to and fro,

and told each other

sophomoric jokes

until the cardboard showed.

“I could have mapped-out

my every action

months in advance,

or remembered to put on pants,

instead of making stick figures dance.”

I closed the flip book,

and rest it face-down on my desk


It’s all fun and games,

until fun and games interfere

with your daily life.

Needing a chuckle,

I opened it again

to repeat the cartoon anew.

Time well-spent, I say.

Simple 3D Simulations


What appears to be,

The scene, it seems,

Blinks on the screen.

A wire-frame man,

Faceless, raceless,

Walks toward the door.

Each movement,

Stiff and robotic,

He pauses,

And lifts,

A package.

He pulls a key,

From an unseen,


He slices,

The packing tape,

Opens the flat-flaps,

And out come,

Rubber snakes,

And confetti.

We assume he,

Is shocked,

As he falls,

And rocks,

On the floor.

You turn from the monitor,

And look at the clock.

It took you 13 hours,

To make this,

In 1996.

You win four awards,

Some golf-claps,

And a baseball cap.